Way Down We Go
by GloriousBlackout
Summary: At first, Yondu distances himself from Peter to avoid the inevitability of having his heart crushed by the guilt of failing yet another child. Despite his best efforts, it isn't long before he finds himself caring too much.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: All my exams are done so I finally have time to write again! I have a fair bit of this story written already so I should hopefully be able to update quickly (I originally thought this would be a one-shot but it turns out I get carried away when writing about this reluctant space-dad).**

 **I hope you enjoy this and any feedback is appreciated! I'll aim to have the next chapter up as soon as I can.**

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It turns out that distancing himself from a traumatised Terran child is easier than Yondu expects.

Not that he can ignore the boy's presence entirely. His crew are starting to notice that they've made no advances towards Ego's planet and, as the days drag on, they make no secret of their confusion over the boy still being on the ship. Their complaints are loud and many, but Yondu's become skilled at drowning them out, and he learns to pay Peter as little heed as possible in order to prevent his foolish heart from caring. Most responsibility for the boy gets handed to Kraglin the instant a translator is buried in his neck, and any niceties Yondu may have showed the other children are discarded in favour of layered threats and forced apathy.

It's not that he likes treating the child like dirt. He knows the boy would benefit from having _someone_ in his corner considering the less favourable among the Ravagers would happily sell him or launch him into space, but Yondu's learned his lesson about opening his heart to children. He's let himself soften a dozen times before, just a little, and it only made the realisation of what Ego was doing burn all the more intensely.

Yondu can do his utmost to keep this one child alive, but he'll be damned if he lets himself care only for something horrifying to claw out his heart again.

If the crew have noticed his change in manner, they wisely refrain from mentioning it. They must realise, however, that Yondu tends to be warmer towards the children to ensure they aren't broken wrecks by the time they're delivered to their father. He's never been one to force friendliness, but he also rarely complained when he found himself with a tiny shadow for a week or two. Sometimes he even appreciated the company, though he was always taken aback whenever a child felt brave enough to eat by his side or ask if they could try out his arrow. Kraglin kept a watchful eye over their cargo whenever duty called Yondu away, and it became a source of pride that Ego's children were always safe and well by the time they approached his surface.

If Ego appreciated their efforts, he neglected to mention it. Yondu never cared all that much for the man's approval though. It was easy to cast aside any doubts about his intentions when they were quickly rewarded with more units than most Ravager factions earned in a year.

The doubts came later, whenever the absence of another child would bring an unfamiliar calm and Yondu was forced to dwell on the fact that the sentient planet remained as lifeless as ever, despite now being home to several lively children. Fatherhood hadn't warmed Ego either – his curt dismissal after every exchange hidden behind empty politeness even now – and before long a chill would settle in Yondu's spine as he awaited the next call.

If his childhood taught him anything, it was that he should listen when his instincts warned of danger. The fact that he only started taking the chill seriously after a dozen children had been delivered left him wishing he could ignore such instincts.

For a long time, Yondu chose to bask in ignorance. It was easier on his conscience to believe that the children - often motherless or lifted from broken homes - were going somewhere better. Somewhere safe. As large and empty as the galaxy is, however, news has a habit of spreading like wildfire and he eventually found himself listening to the noise without meaning to.

It started as whispers on street corners; weathered old women discussing the lonely god who'd resorted to filicide, or traders spitting at the mention of those who dealt in kids. Across the stars, news spread of Ravager factions splintering as the young and greedy chased Ego's promise of wealth, at the cost of their makeshift families.

When Stakar called him up one day, looking more exhausted than ever, Yondu simply swallowed his pride and claimed ignorance of the celestial's dealings, despite how doing so twisted the heart he claimed not to have.

He knows now he should have treated that as a warning of the pain his actions had wrought.

The turning point came when Ego called for the delivery of a young Terran named Peter, and Yondu finally dared ask how the other children were getting on. The flicker of darkness in the old god's eyes had been expected, but it made nausea rise in Yondu's gut regardless and his voice took on a lifeless tone as he promised that Ego would have his son within the week. He knew the words were a lie as soon as he said them, but that didn't make the horror of the situation sting any less.

It's not that people doing terrible things to children is an unknown concept to him. The sight of dying slave-children was a constant before Stakar granted him absolution, and he's visited dozens of planets where more die in their first ten years than ever reach their twentieth. The galaxy being a horrible place for the vulnerable within it is nothing new, but the knowledge that Yondu contributed to the suffering of innocents now threatened to destroy him.

Regardless of intention, Yondu's ignorance and greed killed those children as surely as Ego had.

In the days following that realisation, there was nothing he could do but promise himself that the Terran boy wouldn't suffer the same fate.

Of course, they could hardly leave Peter on Earth either. Ego had many other contacts who would happily throw aside their morals in exchange for units. If Yondu's crew didn't find Peter then someone just as unsavoury would, and the boy would be nothing more than a pile of bones within a week. Terra was too much of a backwater to protect its citizens considering the ease with which Yondu picked Peter up, so leaving him there would have been a death sentence. The Eclector tended to be a death-trap at the best of times, but ultimately Yondu was forced to admit it was the safest possible option in the short-term.

They couldn't tell Peter why they picked him up. That was never a problem before, and it's not one Yondu knows how to deal with now. The other children tended to be excited by the prospect of meeting a father they'd always wanted, but seeing as this was no longer an option there was nothing Yondu could say beyond " _Shut the hell up!_ " when Peter wouldn't stop his incessant yelling.

The boy was a feral little thing at first. His face was streaked with tears and he screamed at anyone who dared come close, and though his scrappiness was almost amusing in its inelegance, he did succeed in giving three men broken noses. Yondu was only able to silence him after the translator was planted in his neck. The chip meant he could tell the boy plainly that his two options were compliance or being eaten by the crew, and though the doubt that flashed across green eyes was obvious, Peter had wisely taken the hint and followed Kraglin and Tullk as they showed him to his quarters.

That marks the last time Yondu saw him in person. It's been two weeks since he took a squadron to Terra to pick up their charge, but though he hears enough reports to assure himself that Peter is safe, he doesn't have the energy to care all that much. Other matters have taken priority; it seems Ego's aware that his son is not forthcoming, but Yondu's resorted to ignoring his calls or, depending on his mood, answering only to tell the god to go fuck himself. He's aware that provoking someone so powerful is probably unwise, but restraint was never his strong suit and Ego could use some humbling.

When he's not fighting off Ego's attempts to make contact, he's mulling over what exactly he's going to do with the Terran boy. He can't stay with them, that much is certain. Ravagers have a habit of recruiting young but never as young as _eight_ , and besides, it's likely Peter wants to leave as surely as Yondu wants to be rid of him.

If he'd been asked a week ago, his first choice would have been Stakar. The man wouldn't have wanted to keep the kid either, but he'd have had a much better idea of who they could trust to protect him.

Any hope of relying on the man for guidance faded when Stakar called Yondu up himself. The man hadn't bothered to conceal his heartbreak as he'd all but begged Yondu to tell him that the rumours concerning his involvement with Ego were untrue. Feigning innocence would have been the easier – and smarter – thing to do, but foolishness had swallowed Yondu before he could stop it and he'd found himself admitting to everything.

Well, almost everything. It had been frighteningly easy to divulge how he'd led twelve children to their deaths, but when it came time to tell Stakar about Peter, the words refused to come forth. The disappointment in his leader's eyes had pierced him as surely as a knife, and any notion of asking for help vanished before he could voice it.

Yondu's heart had barely had a chance to sink upon hearing the word 'exile' before the screen went dark and he was left to his guilt.

He has yet to tell the crew about this development, though doubtless they'll find out soon. Informing the others about Stakar's abandonment will require Yondu to properly process the news himself, though, and he knows full well that it's going to be a while before that happens.

If anything, musing over what he's going to do with the kid provides a blessed distraction, despite no solution presenting itself. Most of the trustworthy options consist of uptight jackasses like the Nova Corps, who may agree to take the kid but only after locking up every member of Yondu's crew. Some of his old friends through Stakar may agree to hear him out for the boy's sake, but will likely advise that he simply take him back to Terra. Kraglin and Tullk like Peter well enough that their suggestion is to keep him around, but the boy's made more enemies on the ship than friends and Yondu's feigned disinterest has hardly helped endear him to anyone.

Whatever happens, it's a problem that needs to be solved before a crewmate steps out of line and harms Peter. Yondu can tell himself he doesn't care all he likes – and he does – but the whole point in picking Peter up was to avoid an early demise. Yondu's failed in many regards during the past year but he refuses to fail here, even if that's merely a selfish attempt to redeem himself for everything else.

More than once, he finds himself staring at the ship's security footage while his men sleep soundly in their quarters. There's never much to see, besides the odd crewmate stumbling along the corridors, and it's not long before his eyes are drawn towards the cupboard they've converted into a makeshift bedroom for Peter.

The boy has a habit of hiding in tiny corners throughout the day, where grown men can't hope to find him, but during the late hours he can reliably be found curled up in bed, clutching that odd contraption he loves so much and unsuccessfully staving off sleep. It's a vulnerable contrast to the vicious front he tries so desperately to put on in front of others, and Yondu can't help but be reminded of himself as a boy, during the few hours of rest his masters would allow him.

It won't be long before he's rid of the child and such thoughts can stop being a nuisance. After that, he can direct his concerns towards figuring out what the hell he's supposed to do as an exiled captain.

He tries not to think about how unleashing Peter into the great unknown seems almost as cruel as delivering him straight to Ego.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** **Thank you so much to everyone who's read this so far. I've figured out that this story should be ten chapters long if all goes as planned, but that may change at some point. For now though, I hope you enjoy this second chapter!**

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It takes three months for Peter's continued presence to become a problem.

This isn't his fault per se. The boy does his chores under Kraglin's watchful eye, albeit reluctantly, and his emergence into the mess hall covered in oil and grime every night seems to assure the crew that he's earning his keep. Peter's also calmed recently, responding to antagonism by walking in the other direction rather than charging at the culprit headfirst with all limbs flailing. Most of his free time is spent listening to that beloved device of his and ignoring everything around him, and the best thing about his isolation is that Yondu doesn't have to put up with him. Peter will shadow Kraglin or Tullk on occasion, but otherwise he seems to be a lone wolf and that suits everyone just fine.

So no; the kid isn't the problem.

The growing pain in Yondu's ass is that news of their charge has reached unsavoury ears. For the last month, he's had to ward off propositions from more traders than he can count, each offering something valuable in exchange for the boy. Some of the more daring among them will even threaten to attack the Eclector and kidnap Peter themselves if Yondu doesn't comply.

He imagines he can blame this on Ego – apparently, he's now offering twice what Yondu was promised for Peter's safe return - and for the most part he laughs off the calls without fear of reprisals. The fact that everyone seems to know they're harbouring one of the most valuable children in the galaxy is concerning, however. People will do anything for money, and his efforts to keep both Peter and his crew safe may be in jeopardy if their situation continues to escalate.

The tipping point is when an old friend - if Yondu can call him that - gets in touch.

Murlainn is a crook through and through, motivated by units and little else, but he and Yondu have shared enough ales in the past to have built something of a rapport. Though Yondu would never say he likes the Xandarian, he tolerates him well enough which is more than he can say for most. It's surprising, however, to see his details flash across the holoscreen four whole months after Stakar cut Yondu loose. As far as he was aware, Murlainn's crew were still loyal to Ogord and followed the code as piously as one would expect, but then, it's hardly like Yondu has been paying attention to the inner workings of the Ravagers as of late.

With only the slightest hesitation, he answers Murlainn's call and tries to appear accommodating when the man's weathered face appears onscreen. He's someone who might once have been handsome before acquiring a series of ugly scars. There's a gash across his grizzled cheek from either a knife or a claw, and his hair has prematurely faded to grey. Murlainn's appearance has the desired effect of making him look intimidating, however; not even his welcoming smile at the sight of Yondu enough to eliminate the menace lurking in dark eyes.

"Udonta!" Murlainn exclaims with a grin; his chipped, yellowing teeth erasing any hint of the handsome man he once was. "It's been some time."

"Not long enough," Yondu replies, only half-joking as he leans back in his chair. He doesn't smile back – hasn't had the energy to smile in months – and his cool welcome doesn't go unnoticed. Murlainn's grin wavers, just enough to chip away the faux-cheer from his face, and the sight of that at least has a smirk pulling at Yondu's lips. "What's been happenin' on your end?"

"We've 'ad it similar to you lot," Murlainn responds with a shrug. "Cut ties with Stakar, good riddance to 'im. Man woulda denied us the best deal goin' in the entire galaxy for the sake of 'is code, so I told him where 'e could stick it."

Yondu ignores the discomfort settling in his gut at the man's words. So, he too has broken ties with Ogord. By the sound of it, he and his crew had done so willingly rather than being forced into exile, and both Murlainn's words and the timing of his call suggest that their new employer is a certain jackass of a planet. That Ego has managed to sway yet more people with his charm and handsome rewards is less surprising than Yondu would like, but it does leave him with a problem.

A pint-sized, Terran problem.

"I don' see what that has to do with me," he lies, and the shit-eating grin that returns to Murlainn's face confirms that his words fool no-one.

"I think you know exactly what it 'as to do with you," the captain responds harshly, his mouth twisting into a sneer that only serves to highlight the gnarly scar on his cheek. "But I aim to be civil. I'm callin' to offer a deal of sorts. Ego wants something you 'ave, and he's offerin' a lot of money to get it back. What do you say we team up and share the reward? I'm sure you must want the runt out o' yer hands after all this time."

Yondu breaks into a laugh before he can stop himself, and something claw-like twists in his heart when his companion joins in. It's disturbing how close Murlainn has come to the truth, though Yondu's plan to get rid of Peter tends to involve taking him as far away from Ego as possible. Perhaps before, when he was blissfully ignorant of the celestial's atrocities, he might have been able to see the benefits of such an offer but now it simply makes him want to punch the screen.

"Ego's fathered bastards all over the galaxy," he says eventually, once his bitter laugh has subsided and he's returned to hiding his unease behind a smirk. "Why don' you concern yerself with finding someone else and forgetting 'bout some dumb Terran?"

"There ain't anyone else," Murlainn responds, the slightest hint of impatience slipping into his tone. It might not be long before he unleashes a flood of insults in his annoyance. The only reason Yondu doesn't hang up there and then is because, out of all those who've spent the last month badgering him, Murlainn is probably the only one who could cause his crew serious harm if he wanted to.

He's so caught up in his musings that he almost misses Murlainn's utterance of, "At least no-one worth ten million units."

Much as Yondu tries, he can't hide his surprise. As a single eyebrow rises in response to the news, Murlainn's grin returns as though taking that small sign as proof that he's swaying Yondu to his cause.

When Ego commissioned Yondu to pick Peter up from Terra his offer had been the typical five hundred-thousand units, and he hadn't given any indication that this child was more valuable than the rest. Even the rumours of Ego doubling his price to a million had seemed steep, and Yondu's forced to resist a laugh at the notion of him offering ten times that. Perhaps Murlainn simply misheard the celestial, though he doesn't seem idiotic enough to have done so and such an outrageous reward would certainly explain the attention Yondu has received recently.

Much as he hates himself for admitting it, he knows that he too might have abandoned what little morals he has and chased such an offer himself once.

"Point is, we'd have to deliver twenty children just to match the value of that one 'dumb Terran'," Murlainn continues, and something dark in his tone suggests he'd probably have as little qualms about sacrificing twenty kids as he does just one. "Yer sittin' on a goldmine, Yondu. We can help each other out. Ego ain't happy with you for takin' what's his, but I could talk 'im round and work out a deal for the both of us. We go through with this, we'll both be rich enough that we don' have to take another job for years. What do you say?"

Yondu wonders when exactly his life was reduced to negotiating the value of children with fellow lowlifes. His first twenty years had contained horrors he'd rather forget, but his liberation at the hands of Stakar was supposed to erase that and prove he could be better than what his masters moulded him into. And yet, offering a man who grew up with nothing the opportunity to get whatever he wanted had probably done more harm than good, helping nurture a greed that Yondu will never be able to redeem himself for.

Despite knowing Ego's money is blood-soaked, every unit they earned from him still rests in a vault waiting to be spent, and their 'rescue' of Peter has only caused him further misery after losing his mother. The truth is, Yondu is not a good man and Murlainn knows it. The whole damn galaxy knows it, which is why everyone's so sure they can convince him to trade another child's life for countless riches.

It's a good thing he's also made a habit of disappointing people.

"Here's the thing," Yondu starts, drumming his fingers on the console to appear as disinterested as possible. The lies he's about to spill will need to be effortless. "I weren't plannin' on telling anyone this, but seeing as we go way back I figure you might as well know. I reckon you've been tellin' yerself that I haven't returned the boy to his daddy 'cause I been goin' soft – don't interrupt now, I know that's what ya thought."

"The thing is, though, we ain't been able to deliver him cause he's dead."

Yondu glances upwards just long enough to see a mix of shock and fury cross the other captain's face before continuing.

"We 'ad an outbreak of fever a few weeks back and the kid got sick. The Doc tried his best to help, but it turns out Terrans are as breakable as they say and we lost him. I think ya can understand why we weren't in a hurry to tell Ego that now, considerin' his payment relies on the kids bein' in one piece."

The news seems to take a while to sink in, and Yondu watches as Murlainn's mouth opens and closes with no words coming forth. His fury seems to have subsided a little – or at least Yondu has stopped being the target of it – only for grief over the loss of all those units to replace it. One could almost feel sorry for him, if his motivations weren't so sickening.

"He weren't all Terran, though," Murlainn mutters, seemingly to himself, and Yondu responds with a sympathetic shrug.

"Being Ego's kid didn't save the others either," he points out, trying not to despise himself further for the ease with which the words come forth. "If anythin' it looks like the fever jus' did his work for him."

"Aye, only it denied us millions in the process," Murlainn says, his bitterness palpable through the screen.

Yondu's still not sure why Ego has attached so much worth to Peter, and that uncertainty coils within his gut. The man sees his children as disposable if the rumours are true, yet instead of discarding his son once it became clear Yondu would never hand him over, he raised his price to outrageous levels.

It doesn't bode well for the boy's safety, wherever he ends up.

The conversation ends blessedly quickly after that. Yondu shoots down any attempts on Murlainn's part to reunite for drinks on the pretence that he has business to attend to, and ends up cutting the call midway through a prolonged farewell. As soon as silence fills the room, he releases a breath and rubs at his forehead to ease some of the tension building there. His lie may end up causing more problems than it solves and people will only believe it for so long, but it's difficult to care about that now.

It's been a long time since it was easy to care about anything.

Without even thinking, Yondu brings up the security footage and his attention lands on Peter with surprising ease. The boy's caught in a fitful sleep, tossing and turning with his body half-buried in the sheets, but he's safe and alive and that's all that matters.

Keeping him that way promises to be the difficult part.


	3. Chapter 3

The calls keep coming even after Yondu's lie, albeit less frequently.

News of Peter's 'death' must be starting to spread, and Yondu takes advantage of the lift in pressure to assign all forthcoming calls to Kraglin. His young first-mate has an earnestness about him that sells any lie he spins, which is why Yondu trusts him to deliver the lines " _Yep, the kid's dead_ ," and " _Cap'n ain't on the ship right now – he's out on a job_ " somewhat convincingly. The latter statement is especially laughable considering the crew haven't had a job in months and are starting to get jittery as a result, but they can hopefully resume something of a routine once they've thrown a torrent of assholes off their scent.

In the meantime, Yondu continues his impressive streak of spending as little time with Peter as possible. It's not that difficult seeing as the boy rarely seeks him out; it seems the ever-present fear of being eaten has forced him to comply with his chores and spend what little freedom he has hiding in his room. If Yondu were feeling kind, he would tell Peter he has no intention of harming him, but the threat seems to stop him from returning to the scrappy brat they brought onboard. The memories of those ear-splitting screams are fresh enough that Yondu's willing to put them off for a while, and besides, fear is a motivator than can save one's life. It's probably for the best that Peter learns that sooner rather than later.

It's Kraglin who eventually brings the news that promises to break that streak of avoidance. Yondu expects nothing good when his first-mate stumbles into the flight-deck, not bothering to hide his fluster even when he acknowledges his captain with a nod. Sure enough, what he ends up hearing has his eyes rolling straight to the back of his head.

"Yer gonna have to take Murlainn's calls," Kraglin says, collapsing onto the co-pilot's seat before staring at the cosmos beyond the window. The stardust lit red by a distant sun would be calming, if Yondu took much interest in that sort of thing. "The man won't stop buggin' me. Says we should all meet up like the good ole days. I'm pretty sure he's already invited himself onto our ship at some point, just as a heads up."

Yondu shakes his head, not as worried by the other captain's insistence as he should be. Any hope that Murlainn would lose interest following the news of their bargaining chip no longer existing had faded by the third call Kraglin was forced to lie his way through, and the man's desire to become reacquainted with their crew smacks of deception. It's true that the two captains shared the odd ale on the rare occasions where the Ravagers would all gather at Stakar's request, but they've both left those days behind them, willingly or not. They were never friends and, if Yondu has any say in the matter, never will be, yet Murlainn has constantly been trying to set up meetings ever since that first call a mere month ago.

It reeks of a trap, and hardly a subtle one. Every minute Murlainn is on the Eclector will be spent searching for Peter in the hopes of disproving Yondu's lie, and if he finds the kid then he'll do everything in his power to earn those units. It is likely he knows Yondu's deduced this much, and yet his calls keep coming; the suggestion of a drunken meet-up accompanied by more and more attractive trade offers each time.

Kraglin's exhaustion is justified, and just this once Yondu regrets placing such a chore in his hands.

"Murlainn's a jackass but he ain't a threat," Yondu responds, though he's not so sure about that. The man had a sizable crew when he flew with the Ravagers, though it is likely some deserted him once he cut himself off from Stakar. "Jus' ignore his calls from now on."

"Would if I could," Kraglin says with a defeated sigh, seeming to sink into his chair as if the fabric's swallowing him whole. "He's up to around five calls a day. I mean, he acts all friendly and everything, but I reckon he's dead serious. He wants the kid, Cap'n. Ain't nothing we can tell 'im that'll make him stop tryin' to find 'im."

It's always annoying when the younger man hits the nail on the head. It's a good thing Kraglin seems to have warmed to Peter – or at least tolerates him as much as one can – and therefore has little desire to see the kid dead, even if the reward would be plentiful. Had anyone else been handling Murlainn's calls then Yondu might have had a mutiny on his hands. The rowdier among his crew would certainly have accused him of going soft over the child, yet Kraglin, despite his youth, has always been loyal to him.

There'll be no end to Murlainn's persistence unless they take the bait (or blow his ship out of the sky, but that may be excessive). Even then, the man will likely keep badgering Yondu with requests to help gather more of Ego's children. He's a livewire that desperately needs to be cut loose, and somehow no matter how far they travel, Murlainn's always able to track them down and beg an audience.

The solution to the whole mess might just be playing into his hands.

"Why don' we call him on his bluff?" Yondu wonders aloud, not caring all that much whether Kraglin takes his words seriously or not. "You offer an invitation to have him over with, say, five or six trustworthy members from each crew. I'll be planetside of course, as you've told Murlainn many times, and the kid for all intents and purposes will be nowhere to be found. We can even have Doc tell of the fever that killed him; people tend to believe healers over thieves."

"Then, when the night is done, ya can send Murlainn and his crew on their merry way empty-handed. Or ya could always alert the crew and have them slaughtered if they try anythin' funny. Guest-right don't apply if they attack ya first, remember that."

"And Peter?" Kraglin asks, his expression unreadable. The fact that he doesn't protest to the half-formed idea is probably a good sign though. "Where will he be in all this?"

"With me," Yondu says without thinking. "I need to sort out some jobs anyway so I'll head to a trading outpost. The kid can come with me. It's 'bout time he saw more of the galaxy than this damned ship."

Kraglin cackles at the idea, and much as Yondu should be throwing disdain towards his first-mate, he finds a bitter laugh of his own escaping.

"The kid ain't gonna like that much."

"No, he ain't," Yondu admits. Not that he can blame Peter; spending a couple of days with a Terran runt at his heels is hardly going to be a fun time for him either. "But he ain't got a choice. If he stays on the ship, Murlainn'll find him and we'll have a bloodbath on our hands. It's safer for Peter if he stays with me."

Kraglin doesn't say anything for a while, but there's something buried in his stare that makes Yondu's skin crawl. He's always been slightly more open with his first-mate than anyone else which, where the child is concerned, may become a problem. He doesn't think for one minute that Kraglin would go behind his back and sacrifice Peter to Ego, but his knowledge that Yondu is trying to keep him safe at all costs could be used against him in the wrong circumstances. He can't help but hope that he hasn't misjudged the other man so badly that he ends up endangering himself.

It's a foolish thing to worry about, but for the last few months Yondu's been growing more and more wary of mutiny. Considering he's earned them Ego's wrath and Stakar's exile, he's surprised his crew haven't grown tired of him already.

In the end, Kraglin finishes mulling over the bones of the plan with a small shrug topped with a smirk. "So, we invite Murlainn over for a feast and a couple o' ales and make sure he leaves thinkin' little Pete's dead. Is that it?"

"Pretty much," Yondu responds plainly, because that's truly all he has. He almost feels guilty over having to leave Kraglin in charge of this half-baked plan, but then, someone needs to keep an eye on the boy and there's no-one Yondu trusts more than himself in that regard. "Unless ya have a problem with that?"

"Nah," Kraglin responds, before returning his attention to the trails of stardust passing by the window. "I mean, I don' know why yer set on keepin' Peter around, but I'm sure ya have yer reasons and I wanna help if I can. Besides, Murlainn's a jackass so keepin' 'im away from the kid's somethin' I can get behind."

Yondu allows himself a private grin at his first-mate's words, and leans back in his chair as the last dregs of his doubt leave him. Kraglin would never betray him; he realises that now.

Their plan isn't much of one at all, and Yondu wishes it wasn't so necessary. In an ideal universe, Murlainn would have grown bored of them weeks ago and moved onto other conquests, but the man's persistence is a problem they need to address and, short of attacking his ship and wiping his crew out of the skies, there's little they can do but humour him with a feast.

In the morning, Kraglin extends an invitation to the captain and five of his men so they can spend an evening drinking ale and trying to find a pint-sized Terran on the Eclector (the latter goes unsaid, but Yondu knows full well it's what Murlainn will be doing every second he's onboard). This seems satisfactory enough and a date is set for three days' time; just enough to grant Yondu an opportunity to select five men of his own to assist Kraglin in entertaining their guests, as well as gather most of his crew in the mess hall to warn them of the forthcoming visitors. Peter is a notable absentee of this gathering, which works in Yondu's favour. He wastes no time making perfectly clear that if any of Murlainn's men ask after the boy, the only response they should get is that he died of his fever weeks ago.

It's probably for the best that most of his crew don't care enough about this order to question it, nor are they likely to seek out Murlainn's crew in the hopes of having a conversation. Even the few who are openly confused by Yondu's instructions seem smart enough not to voice this, and after giving a final warning that any dissenters can expect an arrow through the heart, Yondu is satisfied that neither he nor Peter will be betrayed in the coming days.

Once his crew are up to scratch, there's little left to do but wait.

Much as he loathes to admit it, Yondu's looking forward to spending a day away from the ship, regardless of his choice of company. The kid promises to be a mere distraction at worst, and the idea of breathing unrecycled air and feeling a breeze against his face is a refreshing one. He's spent far too long cooped up on the ship trying to outrun Ego's influence, and his crew have become all the more irritable for it. It will certainly be an improvement to be rid of them for just a short while.

The only issue left to concern him is how well Kraglin can handle Murlainn and his cronies, as well as an entire ship full of crooks, but the boy's going to have to experience leadership eventually. Throwing him in the deep end may force him to learn faster.

Once the arrangements have been made and Yondu has chosen a lowkey trading outpost to hide away, he finally ventures to Peter's room for the first time since the kid was brought aboard. This whole quadrant of the ship is one he's been in the habit of avoiding, ever since he learned what happened to its previous occupants and the ghosts of childish laughter became too overwhelming to bear. The cargo hold is nearby, but with them having had no cargo for the last few months, there's been little need to wander down these corridors, and the oppressive quiet threatens to crush Yondu as he makes his way to the small room buried among the empty halls.

He doesn't bother knocking before he pushes the door open, cringing as a screech of metal assaults his ears. A flurry of movement tells him that the kid's awake, and he finds himself staring into amusingly wide eyes as Peter scrambles back against the bedpost. The strange device he loves so much is clutched in his hands, and if the boy's protectiveness of it weren't evident, Yondu would half-expect the device to be crushed in his white-knuckled grip.

He takes the silence as an opportunity to look around. The room's no longer the bare cupboard it once was. It turns out that Peter's something of a hoarder; the floor is a mess of trinkets from cheap jewels to children's dolls to a musical box Yondu himself had recovered from the ruins of Morag. Some of the dolls are his own, given up for lost long ago, and most of the items (not to mention a rather sizable collection of units) can likely be traced back to other crew members. Even the backpack taken from Peter on the first day can be seen peeking out beneath his bed. Yondu's not sure whether to be enraged at the kid's gall or impressed that he seems to have developed a skill for thievery, and it takes effort to force his expression into blankness with his lips held in a tight line.

It surprises him when Peter's the first to speak. Yondu's barked his fair share of orders at the boy over the last few months, but he'll rarely get a response beyond a shrug or a startled nod, and it hits him just how young the boy sounds when he gathers the courage to talk.

"What're you doing here?"

Yondu can't help but laugh at the question, the sound far more bitter than he intends. The boy's flinch isn't lost on him but he makes no mention of it. He's well aware that beneath contemptuous stares and wild green eyes, Peter's constantly afraid. "It's my ship, boy. I can go where I damn well please and I don' have to answer to brats like you for doin' so. Ya hear me?"

Peter's nod is so eager that Yondu has to resist the urge to laugh again, instead settling for a smirk. The boy's a funny little thing, small for his age but more mature than the other children had been. Not that that was always the case – Yondu remembers all too well the screaming match that ensued when they picked him up – but he's learned well from his time with the Ravagers. Enough to justify his survival anyway.

"Pack a bag, kid," Yondu continues, gesturing vaguely to the items strewn across the floor. It occurs to him that Peter doesn't seem to own anything of use besides a few grubby clothes. Yondu will need to have a discussion with the tailor soon. "I'm takin' ya planetside for a few days. Don' even think about arguing-" he adds as the boy opens his mouth to protest, before obediently closing it and shrinking into the bed. "I ain't givin' ya a choice. Unless you'd rather stay with a load of folk who'd happily eat ya as soon as I'm not around?"

The answer to that is a predictable shake of the head and a barely audible 'no' which satisfies Yondu well enough, and he turns to leave with a final instruction for Peter to be ready by morning. If the soft patter of feet hitting the steel floor is any indication, Peter's unwilling to test his patience on that point. That will serve him well in the coming days; Yondu's less likely to want to strangle him by the end of their trip if he keeps his mouth shut and does as he's told. There's probably not much hope in that seeing as they've found themselves harbouring a scrappy thief, but he'll take what he can get.

After that, there's nothing to do besides give his crew a final reminder that tomorrow they'll swear on their mothers' lives that Peter is 'dead' and has been for weeks, assuming they'd rather avoid an arrow to the heart. Tullk agrees to thoroughly clear out Peter's room in their absence to get rid of his scent, though Yondu doubts Murlainn is familiar enough with Terrans to know them through smell alone, and Kraglin has rehearsed practically every word he'll say to the other captain. Everything should go smoothly, and as an added bonus Yondu will be able to step foot on a real, solid planet for the first time in months.

Reminding himself of that isn't quite enough to erase the apprehension from his mind, but it does help him ignore it right up until the moment he and Peter set off.

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 **A/N - It took longer than I intended to actually involve Peter in this story, but I finally got around to it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and as always, any feedback is appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

Their location is a dive, as trading outposts are known to be. It's a quiet dive though – smaller than most worlds' moons and all the more unimpressive for it – and any fear that Yondu will bump into old friends is significantly lessened by its 'no alcohol' policy. Most of the outpost is comprised of forests so thick with overgrowth it would take thousands of years to cut them down, and the few clearings on offer have long since been converted to market-towns and villages by greedy businessmen. If Yondu cared for natural beauty, the rickety huts or steel towers interrupting the greenery may have incensed him, but as the views become clearer he can only greet them with mild indifference.

Peter, on the other hand, is entranced.

Any attempts to force the kid to stay in his seat have failed. For the last half-hour he's been glued to the window, watching the planet grow larger with wide eyes and an absent smile that suggests he's forgotten Yondu is there. Small hands are pressed against the thick glass as if trying to touch the damp leaves or feel the air, and even the boy's precious headphones remain in place around his neck; the distraction they provide no longer necessary. Yondu's happy enough to leave Peter to his drooling, only pulling him into his seat when they approach the ship-bay of the largest town. He's merely grateful that the views have kept Peter quiet.

Their ship lands as smoothly as though she were a bird. The bay is as busy as one might expect, with traders from all over the galaxy coming to sell their wares. Beyond the window, Yondu can make out brick-like shuttles and massive cargo vessels, lined up in rows and guarded by an intricate series of alarms, and to his relief he recognises none of them. The presence of another M-ship may have forced him to waste the coming days flying uselessly in space until Kraglin could confirm it was safe to return, and the boredom of such an endeavour would likely have driven both him and Peter to madness. A quick escape shouldn't be necessary, however, and Yondu rises from the captain's chair to grab his belongings, ignoring the sensation of curious green eyes following him wherever he goes.

The first problem with their trip presents itself a mere five minutes after landing.

Yondu's barely lowered the ramp onto the dusty surface of the landing pad before he's launching himself towards solid ground, closing his eyes as fresh air fills his lungs and warm sunlight shines upon his face. He hadn't realised just how maddening the Eclector's atmosphere had become, but now that he's free of it he's starting to wish he didn't have to return. There are few planets in the galaxy he would consider safe enough to settle, and doing so would likely bore him, but it's occasions like this that have the possibility creeping into his brain like a parasite.

Any musings on the impossibility of a peaceful existence are interrupted when he turns, only to get his first taste of how annoying being accompanied by a small child promises to be.

Peter has made it to the edge of the ramp and no further. His eyes are fixed on the ground as though afraid he will sink into it if he dares take another step, and any eagerness that gripped him during the trip seems to have vanished. The boy's hold on his backpack is crushing, and when he finally acknowledges the impatient captain staring down at him, it's difficult to tell whether he's excited or terrified.

"Is it safe?" he asks, his voice surprisingly steady despite the adrenaline that must be gripping him. It occurs to Yondu far too late that this is technically Peter's first new planet; what is nothing more than a necessary trip in his eyes marks one of the most significant moments of the kid's life so far. No wonder he's putting off the first step – this is hardly a moment he'll ever be able to recreate.

"Nowhere's safe," Yondu tells him plainly. When an expression flashes across the boy's face that suggests he'd happily take a step back, Yondu releases a sigh and decides to try a more comforting approach. "But the air's breathable. Most people here ain't lookin' to hurt anyone, least of all a kid. And ya got me lookin' out for ya, which I know ain't the most comfortin' thing you've ever heard but it's all I got."

To his surprise, his last point earns him a laugh. It's a hesitant sound and all too brief, but it's enough to chase the fear from the child's eyes for a moment. Yondu tries not to dwell on the fact that it's the happiest Peter's seemed since they picked him up.

He gives Peter a moment to gather himself, before one foot finally advances onto the dust followed by another. The boy takes a few more steps until he emerges into the afternoon glow, his eyes lifting to take in the blue sky and twin suns above him. He makes no effort to hide his smile now as a grin so wide it must hurt spreads across his face, and it speaks volumes of his excitement that its brightness doesn't waver even upon looking back to Yondu.

The captain simply shakes his head, the novelty of this situation having long since worn off for him, before securing the ship and paying for her stay through the lot's computer. As soon as he's done and red lasers embrace the ship to guard her from intruders, he sets off towards the neighbouring town with little care over whether the kid follows him or not. A soft patter of feet at his back is enough to assure him that Peter's decided to stick by his side, but he doesn't say a word as they draw closer to the heart of the settlement.

The town is quaint, if unimpressive. Several rows of wooden houses lend an old-world feel while business-owners stand guard outside their stores, advertising everything from toys to ship parts to local antiquities. The cobbled paths extend into narrow alleyways where pickpockets linger, eyeing the upper-class among the crowds, and in the distance a clocktower rings to announce the arrival of a new hour. Yondu focuses on navigating his way through the dithering crowd – the quiet nature of the planet being one that attracts an older clientele with less adventurous lifestyles – but even if the mass of people weren't in his way, one look back informs him that having Peter around will slow him down regardless.

The boy's eyes are soaking in every detail that surrounds him, from the redwood of the buildings to the diversity of the crowds. Yondu watches as Peter returns a smile thrown his way by an elderly woman with leathery brown skin and a curved back; as his attention drifts from a group of six-limbed individuals with glistening, scaly skin, to a muscular man with tattoos covering every inch of his body who looks like he could snap Peter like a twig. Sure enough, the awe in his green eyes is quickly replaced with apprehension when the man halts and utters "What do you think you're looking at?!" in a deep, rumbling voice, and Yondu reluctantly finds himself stepping into the man's shadow to hide Peter from view.

"The boy's curious, is all," he says, adorning what he hopes is a charming smile, though it does little to thaw the icy expression on their assailant's face. Sensing that the man is unlikely to forgive a perceived insult, Yondu settles for a more reliable tack and lets out a high whistle.

Any menace in threatening grey eyes vanishes as soon as the arrow comes to rest mere inches from the man's forehead, leaving a faded red trail in the air. Yondu can sense the surrounding crowds freezing in their excitement, unwilling to move for fear they'll miss the moment the blood spills. It won't come to that, he knows, but he can't help but enjoy the power that flows through his veins whenever the arrow answers his call, and the fear which now grips the man who would happily have beaten him mere seconds ago is satisfying to watch.

"What do ya say we go our separate ways without makin' a fuss, does that sound good to ya?" Yondu proposes, and though his large opponent's face doesn't so much as twitch, his relief seems to pour off him in waves.

"Aye," the man concedes, fixing Yondu with his gaze as though doing so will erase the arrow's existence. "I won't argue wi' that."

"Good man!" Yondu exclaims, letting his opponent stew in his own tension for just a little longer before recalling the arrow; catching it cleanly in his hand and concealing it in his coat. The surrounding crowd lets out a groan en masse – half relieved, half disappointed – but Yondu pays them no heed. He glances back to find Peter staring up at him with an expression that might be awe, before clapping a hand on a muscular shoulder and shoving past the man who had been at his mercy. "Glad we could work tha' out."

"As am I, my friend," the man agrees, before continuing on his journey and, to Yondu's surprise, releasing a hearty laugh that echoes along the entire street.

At least someone's enjoying himself.

They manage the remainder of their journey without further interruptions; Peter having gathered that he shouldn't stare at people who could easily break him. The boy has practically glued himself to Yondu's side since the confrontation, sticking so close he may as well be clutching the leathers of his coat. Yondu tries to ignore the brewing discomfort over a child relying on him for safety. There's a familiarity there that threatens to crush him, and the guilt from his dealings with Ego is something he's been able to ignore fairly successfully up until this point. He doesn't need the ghost of sentiment to mess that up for him.

Their location finally comes into view after an hour of trekking through the crowds. Eili's shack lies on the outskirts of town, barely metres from the impenetrable forest. The cobbles have long since been replaced with a worn dirt-track and footprints of many different shapes indicate she's already seen her share of customers lately and might not care for any more. She's always had a soft spot for Yondu though, with him being among the few Ravagers not chased away from a planet devoid of alcohol, and much as he'd happily deny it, he has a fondness for the old woman himself.

The wooden door to her shack swings open with ease, a creak and the ringing of a bell announcing their presence. Her shop is blessedly empty of people, even the owner by the look of it, and Yondu amuses himself for a few moments by scanning her wares. Most of the items are useless trinkets; there's a shelf dedicated to dolls modelled from the forest's redwood, and moth-eaten items of clothing which must be as old as Eili herself.

There are a few treasures to be found, however. Behind reinforced glass sits a stall dedicated to precious jewels from across the galaxy, glittering beneath the lamplight in all shades of red, green and blue. A purple jewel resting upon a golden plate is one Yondu himself claimed for Eili in exchange for thousands of units, back when he worked under Stakar. Another stall is dedicated to lifelike sculptures fashioned from the finest marble, and Yondu resists a snigger as Peter's attention is drawn to one of a beautiful Xandarian who has the added bonus of what appears to be real eyes in her stone sockets. The boy doesn't seem to know whether to be impressed or disgusted, so Yondu spares him from having to decide by placing a hand on his back and leading him towards the store counter.

Eili emerges into view moments later, leaping in surprise at the sight of her two visitors despite them having made no effort to be quiet. She clutches her chest with one twisted hand before letting out a raspy laugh and making her way to the counter on shaky legs.

"Udonta!" she exclaims, her violet eyes wide with glee as she takes in his face, and he rests a polite kiss upon her hand when she offers it. Her skin is papery to the touch, her thousand years of existence making itself known, but as she rises to full-height she still carries the elegance she must have had in her heyday. Her weather-beaten skin is as orange as her planet's sunsets, with the odd pink scar hinting at a time she too would travel the stars in search of riches. Her hair is dyed black and seems to have been hacked short, but somehow it suits her, and when she offers him a gap-toothed smile, Yondu imagines she'd make a better Ravager than most of his crew even now. "What brings you here, young man? And who is this little creature?"

Her attention has been stolen by Peter, who seems to shrink under her gaze and looks up to Yondu in the hope that he'll do all the talking.

"'e's one of Kraglin's brothers," Yondu lies with ease, and to his credit Peter doesn't so much as blink in reaction to the words. Eili would never harm a child regardless of any reward Ego's promised so there's little reason to conceal the truth from her, but he can't be too careful. "I've been showing him the ropes, an' I can hardly do that without paying ya a visit."

Eili's grin brightens, evidently flattered, though there's a hint of mockery in her tone as her next words come forth. "You're looking for a job, ain't ya?"

"Ya know me too well," Yondu says with a mock bow, and the sight of him humbled has the old woman cackling. She looks to Peter with a warmth he likely hasn't seen for months, and the boy seems reassured enough to take a few steps forward.

"Rule one of being a Ravager, kid," she says with glee burning in her eyes before pointing in Yondu's direction. "Don't be as obvious as this one. Won't do yourself any favours if folks can see right through ya."

"So ya got anythin' goin?" Yondu asks before their conversation can become side-tracked. He likes Eili well enough, but he has no intention of hanging around for long. Especially seeing as her words have brought another smile to Peter's face, and it isn't lost on Yondu that it's entirely at his expense.

"Be patient," Eili says sternly, and for a second Yondu's forced to think of the mother he never had. She reaches for her spectacles and dodders over to a desk, flicking through the yellowing papers piled high there. Adopting the technologies of today doesn't seem to be on her agenda, but it doesn't take long for her to find the file of interest and bring it to rest on the counter.

"According to some, there's a collection of precious jewels hidden all the way out on Morag," she says, pointing to a hurried drawing of a red diamond beneath a wall of scribbled words. "Legend says if you look into their hearts long enough you can see the whole universe."

Yondu scans the page quickly, and sure enough the legend surrounding the stones is highlighted more than once. It seems to explain the high value placed on them, for nothing else regarding their origins suggests that they're anything special, and that fact has him laughing before he can stop himself. "You believe that crap?"

"Of course not," Eili replies with a cunning smirk. "But customers will buy anything if you make it sound mysterious enough. You find any, I'll give you two hundred-thousand units apiece."

"Consider it done," Yondu responds, before offering a hand which Eili enthusiastically shakes, sealing the deal. With that settled, he folds the paper and tucks it away in his coat before bidding the woman a silent farewell and making his way to the door.

A faint orange hue drifting through the windows announces the setting of the suns, their light struggling to break through the recent cloud cover. It's quiet outside; with any luck, their journey to a tavern should be a peaceful one.

"Until we meet again," Eili calls at his back, and Yondu turns and gifts her with a final nod. At his side, Peter seems to break out of his shyness enough to wave and utter a quiet "Bye," and it'd be difficult to miss the delight in Eili's eyes as she waves back.

Perhaps she'd be a good candidate to entrust Peter with, Yondu wonders as they start the journey to the centre of town. It's been centuries since she lost her own children, and she probably wouldn't object to taking on a young apprentice who could carry on her business after she's gone. He could even take up her legacy of adventuring when he's older. It's a nice thought, but an unrealistic one; Yondu trusts the woman with many things but even he doubts she could protect both herself and a child from those seeking Ego's reward, and he's not sure how many years she has left in her. He's always liked the idea that she'll surprise him and live forever, but he's not willing to gamble with Peter's life on that assumption.

It looks like the kid's still his problem for now. Yondu's starting to wonder if there will ever come a time where he's not concerning himself over what to do with him.

The sky darkens quickly as they walk, the threatening grey clouds chasing the crowds into their homes or taverns for the night. The few people they encounter seem to be locals used to the planet's ever-changing weather, and Yondu pays them little heed as he passes. Now that he has a job to occupy him, all he wants to do is spend his remaining hours on this rock planning every step, and it's easy enough to throw rough ideas together in his head and ignore his silent companion. The boy hasn't been as infuriating as he expected, but his presence is still an unfamiliar one. Yondu has no intention of growing attached to Peter, especially as all his efforts up to this point have been focused on getting rid of him to ensure his safety.

They're only ten minutes away from the tavern when a rumble emerges from the clouds, and Yondu looks up just in time to catch sight of the first raindrops falling from the sky. The oppressive grey above threatens to unleash a torrent upon them at any moment, and his instinct is to hurry along the cobbled streets until he realises the tell-tale footfalls at his back are absent.

He turns quickly, not bothering to conceal his impatience, only to find Peter frozen on the spot with his hands outstretched. As more and more drops fall, it becomes clear that the boy's catching the water in his hands as though he were a man dying of thirst, and he lifts his head to the heavens with a small smile on his face as the rain becomes heavier.

Yondu's annoyance fades quickly enough thanks to the blissful coolness of the water on his skin, wiping away the sweat from the afternoon sun, and he's reminded that he hasn't seen rain in months. The patter of raindrops slamming against the ground starts to overwhelm the rumbling from the skies, but Peter doesn't seem to mind getting soaked; going so far as to open his mouth to catch the water on his tongue.

"I wouldn' do that if I were you," Yondu says with a smirk, breaking the child from his reverie. "It rains acid here."

It's a blatant lie at the kid's expense, and the way Peter's eyes widen in sudden terror has Yondu barking with laughter. "Relax, I'm messin' with ya. You're probably gonna make yerself sick if ya stay out in this too long, but the rain itself won' hurt ya."

It takes a moment or two for Peter to be reassured by that, his trust in Yondu limited after four months of their interactions amounting to threats of being eaten, but he draws closer soon enough and acts as a silent shadow for the rest of the journey. Yondu slows his pace a little, enough to let them bask in the cool rain a little while longer, and when he looks down at Peter, he has to convince himself that the boy's joyful smile doesn't have an unfamiliar warmth gripping his heart.

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 **A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read up until this point - the next update should either be tomorrow or the day after :)**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N - This chapter ran away with me a little, hence it taking slightly longer to finish and edit. I hope it's enjoyable though. As always, thank you so much for your responses so far. Any feedback is appreciated, and I'll try to have the next chapter up soon :)**

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They reach the tavern just as the rain stops.

Stray droplets continue to fall from the furnishings of the two-storey building, but the flickering light beyond the windows promises an inviting warmth. The place is quieter than most - the allure of alcohol sorely missed - yet as the soaked pair wander into the main lounge, they find a few occupants relaxing by the fireplace. Most pay the new arrivals no heed, besides one elderly woman who greets Yondu with a polite nod and smiles warmly when she sees Peter by his side. The only sound is the crackling of firewood, the smoke overshadowed by the scent of roasting meat drifting from the kitchen. The smell is enough to make Yondu's mouth water, but the promise of food isn't enough to distract him from the need to hide away and get in contact with Kraglin.

Instead of following his nose to the kitchen, Yondu draws closer to the desk sitting opposite the door, trying to hide his smirk at the sight of a young receptionist who's so zoned out it takes her a moment to realise she has clients.

"You two wantin' a room?" she asks when she takes in the sight of Yondu and his young companion. They must make a sorry sight, with their coats soaked through and Peter's damp hair sticking to his forehead, but the girl makes no mention of that and settles instead for flicking through some papers. "We got a shared dorm with six beds, or two small rooms with one bed each."

"A small room'll be fine," Yondu tells her, resisting the urge to laugh as Peter's head whirls towards him in horror. "I ain't plannin' on sleepin'. The kid can have the bed."

The girl hums under her breath, seemingly disinterested in his clarification. Yondu watches as she selects a piece of paper and slides it across the desk, then reaches into the drawers for a set of keys as Yondu pulls out the requested seventy units. The exchange of units for key occurs silently, the girl continuing to pay him little heed, but her blue eyes soften a little as she looks down at Peter.

"He yours?"

"Yeah," Yondu responds, not bothering to expand on the lie seeing as the girl won't care and he doesn't have the energy to conjure up an explanation. Even the truth would sound outlandish if he told it, and admitting out loud that the boy is Ego's would likely endanger everyone on the premises. He deliberately avoids looking at Peter though, even as the girl drops her moody teenager act and offers a rare smile at his answer.

"Your room's upstairs, second on the right," she says, before settling back on her chair and returning to a discarded book by her side. "Be out by midday and don't make a mess."

"We'll do our best," Yondu promises, before grabbing the keys and sauntering past the desk to reach the stairs. Peter follows without needing to be told, his light footsteps the only sound as they ascend narrow, creaky stairs, and it takes no time at all to reach their quarters for the night.

The room is plain, but inviting after a long day spent on their feet. A bed barely large enough for one person lies in the centre while a cushioned chair rests in the corner, waiting for Yondu to collapse onto it. There's an en-suite restroom just as they enter, and Yondu reaches inside to claim some towels before throwing one to Peter.

"Dry yerself off then get some sleep," he instructs, more gruffly than he intends, before peeling off his coat and hanging it on a peg to dry. He pats himself down with his own towel as thoroughly as he can, but the rain clings to his skin regardless and it doesn't take long for him to give up and collapse bonelessly onto the inviting chair. One look over to Peter shows him trying to dry his hair with little success, the golden strands standing on all ends by the time he's done, and when he finally settles on the bed he doesn't seem to have any intention of sleeping. Instead, he stares pointedly at Yondu with something that's either curiosity or disdain, though there's not enough patience in the galaxy for him to bother figuring out which.

"Thought I told ya to get some sleep?" Yondu says, knowing that slinking off to contact Kraglin and assess the Murlainn situation will be a lot easier if the kid isn't nosing in on the conversation.

"I ain't tired," Peter says in a voice that might have been defiant if it weren't so childlike.

"Tough," Yondu tells him plainly. He doesn't have time for the kid to indulge in being a brat, and if he lets Peter succeed in trying his luck then the fearful obedience he's encouraged up until now will start to crumble. "Either ya get some sleep, or I'll make sure yer work hours get a hell of a lot longer soon as we're back on the ship."

The threat seems to do the trick. Reluctantly, the kid shrugs off his coat and dumps it onto the floor before curling onto his side and resting his head against the pillow. He doesn't bother wrapping the sheets around himself despite how his damp clothing must be starting to chill. Green eyes stubbornly continue to stare in Yondu's direction, even as several minutes pass by in silence.

"I'm hungry," Peter admits eventually, and Yondu would be impressed by his nerve if it weren't so irritating.

"Ya can have somethin' in the morning," he promises, unable to ignore the fact that he too is craving the food that's surely cooking downstairs. "Go to sleep."

To reinforce his point, he rises to his feet and wanders to the light-switch, catapulting the room into darkness with a single flick. The clouds have parted enough to allow a thin stream of moonlight through the window but otherwise the sky is pitch black, and what stars are visible seem far beyond reach. As Yondu quietly walks back to the chair and settles onto it, he finds himself taken by the novelty of not having the floor thrumming as he tries to sleep; at the absence of an engine's rumble and the knowledge that beyond thin walls lies the crushing vastness of space. When he looks over to the bed, he finds Peter lit by moonlight and still fighting sleep, though those bright orange headphones are wrapped around his ears and playing music that seems to calm him. It's an improvement over his earlier indignance that Yondu can hardly argue with.

He can feel sleep creeping up on him sooner than he'd like. His vision starts to fade until the moonlit glow becomes a blur, but he's forced back to alertness when a small voice pipes up again. Any temptation to berate the kid vanishes quickly at the content of what's been said, and Yondu slowly realises that the faint music from Peter's device has been silenced.

"You've hurt people."

It's not a question, though the statement doesn't sound as accusatory as the words would suggest. Yondu turns his attention to the boy only to see tired eyes fixed in his direction, dissecting him with an intensity he hasn't seen many eight-year-olds possess. While he's made some effort not to unleash his violent streak in front of Peter, he's hardly done a good job of hiding it either; between all the threats of letting his crew eat the boy and the ease with which he activates his arrow, Yondu can only imagine the picture of himself that Peter has constructed in his mind.

The worst part is that whatever monster the boy has concocted likely isn't too far from the truth.

"Yeah," Yondu says honestly. Pretending his soul is clean won't fool Peter. "I reckon I've hurt more people than you've met."

His answer doesn't draw an immediate reaction from Peter, though the flicker of fear that crosses his face isn't lost on Yondu. He's seen it many times before. The boy has spent the last few months being silently afraid of him, and there doesn't seem to be much hope in that changing over time.

The hint of fear vanishes surprisingly quickly though. Peter takes a small breath before speaking up again, as if the air in his lungs will grant him the courage he needs. "Were they bad people?"

In a different setting, Yondu might have laughed at that. He can imagine that question being met with cackles from his crew and a bitter sneer from himself had it been uttered on the Eclector, but the temptation to do so doesn't grip him here.

"Not always," Yondu admits, and Peter nods upon hearing the words. The answer is one he likely expected. "See, you can try to limit the hurt to those who deserve it, but it don' always work out that way. Sometimes ya mess up and good people get caught in the crossfire. That's somethin' ya just have to live with."

Yondu would like to believe such an occurrence was rare, but he knows he cannot lie to himself. Most of his youth was spent fighting children as terrified as himself while their masters roared in their bloodlust. Back then, not striking first meant death even if your opponent was a friend. At least now that he's among the Ravagers, most of the people he fights are just as despicable as he is, and he can reassure himself that the bastards deserved every hit he threw at them in the brutal aftermath. It's not always that simple though. Not every robbery of unsuspecting civilians goes smoothly, and his crew are hardly known for their restraint when their lust for gold takes over.

Hell, Yondu can hardly pretend he's any better than the likes of Horuz or Taserface; they weren't the ones making the decisions that led to the deaths of twelve kids. That's on him – always will be – and for that reason alone, the doubt that must be flowing through Peter's head this very moment is justified.

Peter hasn't looked away, but he doesn't seem to have so much as breathed either. He resembles an outmatched prey, relying on their ability to stay absolutely still to save them from the nearby predator, and Yondu finds himself taken aback by how deeply the sight stings.

"Do I scare ya, boy?" he asks, not really expecting a response. Sure enough, he doesn't get one; Peter's mouth opens as if to say something but he ultimately decides against it, as though not trusting himself to speak.

"I ain't gonna hurt ya," Yondu promises, though he imagines the words must sound empty to Peter's ears. He could swallow his pride and explain exactly why he wants him to be safe – tell him the truth about his jackass of a father and what became of his siblings – but he knows that will only make things worse. Besides, he doesn't need the boy to trust him. All Yondu needs to know is whether he can trust himself to keep Peter safe. "Now, I can't promise that someone else won't try. The galaxy's full of assholes who wouldn' think twice about hurtin' ya if they thought they'd get somethin' out of it. But I ain't gonna let that happen without a fight, ya hear?"

The words linger in the air for a painfully long time before Peter forces himself to nod, and the impossible happens when a small smile breaks across his face.

"Thought you were gonna let the crew eat me?"

Yondu laughs before he can stop himself, and though the boy doesn't join in, his smile doesn't waver. That's a good sign at least.

"Kid, if my crew wanna eat ya so bad then not even I'll be able to stop 'em," he says as soon as his laughter dies down. It's a lie so blatant even Peter seems to see through it, his smile turning into a disbelieving smirk that's more impressive than it should be.

The tense atmosphere has mercifully broken, and Yondu feels like a weight has been lifted from his chest when Peter's attention returns to the device in his hands. He clicks a button that has muffled music disturbing the quiet again, but Yondu doesn't mind it so much. He can just make out a voice which might be male and the strumming of some instrument, but any words being sung are too soft to hear and Yondu doesn't know enough about music to bother figuring out the vague melody that escapes the headphones.

The quiet stretches for long moments without either of them getting any sleep. The exhaustion that clings to Yondu's bones makes the thought of drifting off extremely tempting, but the growing discomfort of the chair and his brain's refusal to quieten has rest evading him. It becomes clear whenever he opens his eyes that he's not alone in this. Though Peter seems to be trying to remain quiet, he doesn't bother to hide the fact that he's awake as his eyes fix on the moonlit view beyond the window and his fingers tap against the device with every beat of the music. As always, the melodies seem to calm Peter as if their existence can block out the world around him, and Yondu can't help but be a little curious.

With a heaving sigh, he wipes his tired eyes before straightening in his chair and gesturing to the device with an exaggerated nod. Part of him imagines that Peter will be so lost in the music that he won't even notice the movement, but to his surprise the boy pulls one of the headphones back as if granting Yondu permission to speak. The idea of him needing some runt's approval is enough to have a sly grin curling his lips, but he lets it die quickly enough. He doesn't want to scare Peter more than he already has.

"What is that thing anyhow?" he asks, pointing vaguely in the direction of Peter's hands. He knows in principle that the thing plays music, but he's never quite grasped why that makes it so important. It doesn't seem capable of doing much else and it only grants Peter an hour of peace before emitting a clicking sound that pulls him from his reverie, yet the boy fought tooth and nail to steal it back when it was taken on his first day. Horuz still has an echo of the scratch Peter left on his cheek in his bid to rescue it, and had his men not been so fearful of inciting their captain's wrath, Yondu has no doubt that many of them would have torn the kid apart after that sorry mess.

In the end though, Peter had gotten what he wanted. His ability to crawl into small spaces others couldn't allowed him to reclaim his backpack and music-player, having risked death in the process. Yondu wonders if all that effort was worth it.

His question seems to have struck a nerve. Though Peter doesn't move an inch, one can't miss the way his hands tighten around the metal brick in his hands as if expecting Yondu to pry it from them. Even his answer is defensive; a clipped " _It's mine_ " that would seem precocious if he weren't so obviously shaken by the idea of losing it.

"Aye, I know that much," Yondu says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. In this light, it's unlikely Peter would see the gesture anyway. "I was askin' _what_ it was."

This time he doesn't get an answer. Peter opens his mouth as if to speak, but any words are swallowed in a small gulp and his once even breathing seems harsh all of a sudden. His grip on the device is now so tight it must hurt, the whites of his knuckles highlighted by the moonlit streams. The sight is enough to tell Yondu that the thing isn't just some clumsily designed music-player; the boy's assigned an importance to it that most men would only place on a mountain of gold.

If he were a kinder man he'd leave the matter alone, but now his curiosity only burns brighter and he finds himself extending a hand.

"Show me," he says, aiming for a tone that dissuades resistance. It's enough to have Peter freezing, eyes wide with unmasked terror, and Yondu can't help but sigh and mould his expression into something gentler. "I ain't planning on stealin' it, if that's what's got ya all worried. One quick listen's all I want, then ya can have it back."

His request is met with further silence from the boy, to the point where Yondu's prepared to call it quits and leave him in peace. It's a surprise when Peter finally shifts, forcing himself into a seated position and cradling the device like a mother would a baby, before peeling the headphones off and extending them to Yondu. It's a compromise of sorts – Yondu can listen but Peter will keep hold of the main body of the device – and that suits fine. Even offering the headphones has the boy's hands trembling, and Yondu humours him by being as delicate as possible as he takes them into his own.

There's still music playing, the instruments and vocals blending into muffled chaos, but as Yondu brings the headset to his ears, the cacophony becomes clearer. What was once a mess of noise forms a coherent whole, and he listens as some Terran singer croons away about falling in love while a pleasant melody backs him up. Yondu seems to have caught the tail end of the song as there's a blank space of nothingness for several seconds before a softer, more sombre melody starts up.

He only bothers listening for a few moments before pulling the headphones away and offering them back to Peter. He's not one to get lost in music. He hardly had the chance to get invested in it as a child and what little he's exposed to now is usually performed by street-artists in busy markets, so the boy's love of it is somewhat foreign to him. That said, Yondu can hardly judge. He imagines that if he had any love for his home, he too would cling to all reminders of it after being cruelly snatched away.

"That all it does?" he asks, as Peter clicks a button and the sounds finally cease. He's calmer now that it's back in his hands and in one piece, and his terror seems to have calmed considerably as his eyes meet Yondu's and he gives a small nod. "Well in that case, I imagine ya get more out o' it than I do. Ya don' need to worry 'bout me stealin' it."

That promise has a weak smile gracing Peter's lips. Whether he's truly reassured or not, Yondu can only guess. The boy has spent the last four months being surrounded by professional thieves so any distrust that lingers is certainly justified, however it seems that some of it has melted enough for him to speak up again.

"It weren't mine at first," Peter says, his voice small as though afraid someone else will hear him, and his eyes have become glued to the music-player in his lap. Perhaps the words aren't even meant for Yondu and he just happens to be there to witness them. "My mom… she always made these tapes and we'd go out to the park to listen to 'em together. Or she'd have the radio on in the house and sing whenever somethin' she liked came on. But that was before… before she got sick."

Yondu can feel the puzzle pieces slotting into place. The music player doesn't matter to Peter because of what it is, but because of who gave it to him. The mother who loved the songs he now listens to in an attempt to lull himself to sleep; the same mother he spent a week screaming for when he was brought onto the ship, his face red with tears and his tiny frame trembling with broken sobs. Even now his voice is cracking – the promise of tears dampening his eyes – and if Yondu knew anything about comfort, perhaps he'd offer it.

He doesn't though. The form of comfort that's needed now is one he's never known – even Stakar's had been too gruff to be appropriate here. Any temptation to show it is overshadowed by guilt as he remembers Ego telling him about Peter's dying mother and how little attention he'd given that news at the time. If anything, his only takeaway from Ego's mention of her had been that the man seemed more affected by her sickness than one might have expected, but even that brief hint of emotion had faded before long.

"Did you know her?" Peter asks suddenly, breaking Yondu from his memories and catching him off guard. The boy's evidently been rubbing at his eyes and there's a feverishness to them now that makes him seem wilder than usual. "Is that why you picked me up?"

The topic's shifted to one Yondu is very much against discussing, and he breaks eye contact with Peter in a silent dismissal. He could be honest and simply say no, but he knows then that the boy will simply persist in asking why Yondu abducted him and that's something he definitely doesn't need to know. Not now; not at eight. Perhaps as an adult, Peter will be ready to hear fragments of the truth, but Yondu doubts they'll even know each other by that point and he'd rather not be the one to break the news that his father's a psychopathic child-killer.

"Thought ya were supposed to be sleepin'?" he asks instead, adopting a no-nonsense tone that seems to work. Peter tries to hold his gaze for just a moment longer, before shrugging in defeat, returning his headphones to their rightful place and lying back on the sheets. He makes no effort to pull them over himself for warmth even though the night air has become cool, but his eyes eventually drift shut. Within half-an-hour, his breaths have evened into a pattern that suggests sleep has claimed him.

Yondu waits a little longer, fighting off sleep himself in the meantime. It doesn't take long for him to be satisfied that Peter won't wake, so he rises to his feet and quietly sneaks over to where his coat hangs on the door. He reaches into a pocket and brings forth his communicator, before pulling the door open and stepping into the deserted hallway. The rest of the tavern's occupants seem to be asleep, much to his convenience, and he ensures the device's signal is centred on the Eclector's systems before making the call and lowly muttering Kraglin's name.

It takes a few tries for the other man to pick up, and when he does offer an exhausted "'Ello?" it seems clear that his night has hardly been fun either. That he's alive provides some comfort – at least Murlainn hasn't decided to tear the ship apart in a futile search for Peter – but Kraglin doesn't seem entirely happy either.

"How'd it go?" Yondu asks, leaning against the wall and cringing as a creak echoes throughout the hall. There's a forced exhale of breath on the end of the line that on any other occasion might have had Yondu laughing, but he's too tired to offer much of a reaction and instead settles for simply hearing his first-mate's description of the night's events.

"Well, Murlainn's a sleazy bastard bu' we knew that much. 'e followed all our requests though – only brought six guys with 'im and seemed happy enough to leave when we asked 'im to. Some of 'is men took extended 'toilet breaks' but obviously they didn't find anything."

"Obviously," Yondu agrees, automatically looking into the room where his young charge is resting.

"Murlainn was disappointed ya weren't there," Kraglin continues, something that might be a sigh causing the line to hiss for a few seconds. "I did tell 'im ya wouldn' be, but I think 'e still wanted to see ya for 'imself. He might try an' arrange a meetin' with ya at some point, bu' hopefully we've satisfied 'im enough that he won't bother us so much anymore. Doc seemed to convince him that Pete's dead anyway so there's that."

"We still need to be careful," Yondu admits, because Murlainn is a slippery bastard if ever there was one. If the slightest doubt over Peter's survival exists in his mind, he will chase that paper-trail until the end of time. This one pleasant dinner won't be the end of it, though it was hopefully enough to earn a little of the other captain's trust. "He didn' hurt anyone, did he?"

"Nah," Kraglin says without hesitation, and Yondu lets relief settle into his heart at the news. "'e threatened to beat up Horuz after a few drinks but I reckon 'e was jus' tryin' to be funny. Apart from that, nothin' happened. We're all fine here."

"Good," Yondu says, rubbing his eyes as the late hour finally catches up with him. He's starting to anticipate a few hours of rest, even if the old chair threatens to damage his back. "I got us a job thanks to old Eili. We should be back by tomorrow night, then we're off to Morag to find some stones. Try not to blow up the ship in the meantime, ya hear?"

"I'll do my best, Cap'n," Kraglin responds brightly, and even through the terrible quality of the communicator, Yondu can hear the smile in his voice. A small one of his own pulls at his lips, before he bids a final farewell and clicks off the device. The silence that follows seems to ring in his ears, and he rests his head against the wall just long enough to let the relief over Murlainn being slightly less of a problem sink in, before wandering back into the small bedroom.

Peter's still fast asleep, curled in a ball and shivering with the cold. The sheets he neglected earlier are now crumpled at the bottom of the bed, likely having been kicked away during the throes of some nightmare. Without thinking, Yondu reaches for the covers and wraps them around Peter's small frame as tightly as he dares, before settling on the chair in the hopes of claiming a few hours of rest himself. There's a slight pause in the boy's breathing that makes him wonder if his actions have woken him, but Peter merely shifts a little and absently burrows further beneath the sheets as though lured by the promise of warmth.

Yondu tries not to let the sight of Peter sleeping so peacefully affect him. He's been doing well on the not-caring front for far too long to give up now, and he knows that only pain will lie ahead if the boy worms his way into his heart like the others had done. Even if he miraculously survives what little time he has left among the Ravagers, Yondu will eventually have to let him go if he has any intention of keeping him safe. It would be best not to let sentiment infect him before that time comes.

That's what his head tells him. Yet, no matter how desperately he tries to listen, he can't deny the twinge that pains the rotten heart in his chest, and it's as clear a sign as any that he's already doomed.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N - Again, thank you so much for reading this. We've passed the half-way point which means I should _hopefully_ have this completed by sometime next week. I'm not sure whether the next chapter will be up in one day or two but I'll aim to have it up as soon as I can :)**

 **In the meantime, thanks again for reaching this point and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

By the time morning arrives, the twin suns have vanquished the clouds and drenched the planet in a pleasant glow. The clocktower brings in the new day with seven rings of the bell, and already the tell-tale bustle of traders opening their stores disturbs the quiet. Yondu wakes with an ache in his back which is relieved a little upon stretching, and he allows Peter a few more minutes of sleep as he escapes into the restroom to don a new set of clothes. When he emerges, wearing a shirt which mercifully lacks the dampness of rain, the boy seems to be on the verge of waking up; his eyes squinting in the rising sun as he rubs lingering exhaustion from them.

It doesn't take long to pack up. Peter digs into his backpack solely to pull out fresh clothes and carelessly stuff yesterdays into it. Though his coat is not fully dry, Yondu decides the sun will finish the job and pulls it on, ensuring his arrow sits close to his chest should he need it, and he waits by the door as Peter clumsily makes the bed. By the time they're ready to leave, the room is in much the same state they found it in.

The receptionist who accepts their key is different but just as disinterested in them as the other girl had been, merely uttering a bored "thanks" before returning to her book in a silent dismissal. Not that Yondu minds. It's nice not to be forced into conversation by overeager staff, and the less attention he and Peter attract, the better.

The streets are slowly filling with early risers hoping to avoid the afternoon horde, but the crowds are more manageable this time around. Yondu skirts around passers-by with ease, only having to look back occasionally to ensure the boy's still following him. He's not entirely sure of his destination yet; while part of him simply wants to head back to the ship and get to work, another part wouldn't mind staying on the planet a little longer. The heat from the suns is pleasant without spilling into suffocating, and as the smell of roasting meat fills the air as they wander along the food district, his hunger returns with a fervour. Peter, too, is staring at every café or vendor they pass with a pathetic yearning, and it isn't long before Yondu takes pity on him.

They stop at a vendor parked close to the town square, the owner a small man whose light purple skin is dotted with freckles. It takes him a while to notice his new customers as he loses himself in adding a layer of spices to the sizzling steaks and shanks cooking on his stove. When he finally looks up, he smiles at them brightly before wiping a layer of sweat from his forehead and taking their orders, and soon enough they're finally sating their hunger on a bench beside the square's trickling fountain.

"Why'd you leave Kraglin in charge?" Peter asks him at one point, before digging back into his shank and tearing a sliver of meat from the bone. It turns out he's a messy eater – not dissimilar to most Ravagers – and Yondu has to resist a laugh when he's forced to wipe a dollop of juice from his chin. To be fair, the meat is deliciously tender and it's taken a certain amount of restraint for Yondu not to simply tear into his own.

He takes another bite himself before licking the juice from his fingers and pondering the boy's question. It's not the first time he's been asked why he chose someone so young to be his first-mate, though he usually hears it from men closer to his own age who feel they deserve the title more. Peter, on the other hand, is merely curious.

"I trust the kid," Yondu says honestly, capping the statement off with a shrug. "Can' say that for most people. If he works hard and doesn' step outta line, he might make a good captain one day."

"So you're training him?" Peter asks, setting aside a now bare thigh-bone and sucking the remaining juice and gristle from his hands.

"I guess I am," Yondu agrees, though he's tried to avoid thinking about it as clearly as that in the past. Even if he is one of the better candidates, Kraglin still has a long way to go before he can comfortably lead a crew of his own. "I ain't plannin' on dyin' anytime soon, but ya can't be too careful. And there ain't many I trust to replace me. Hell, ya know the crew well enough by now; you'd probably be a better captain than most of that lot."

Peter beams with pride at that, and Yondu ignores the temptation to do the same. Much as he hates to admit it, he is warming to the boy a little. He can be a pain in the ass, as children tend to be, but he knows when to shut up and give Yondu peace which automatically makes him better than most.

"Do you like being captain?" Peter asks once Yondu finishes his steak. It's strange to hear the boy voice so many questions after his prior shyness, but given that they aren't currently an inconvenience, Yondu doesn't mind answering them.

"I like it well enough," he says, surprising himself when he realises the answer isn't a lie. His situation as captain may have grown more complicated of late, but he's still able to appreciate the responsibility that comes with leading a crew. "It's nice to boss people around and have 'em be scared of ya. It ain't always fun though. I wouldn' be very good at the job if it were fun all the time."

He turns to Peter, half-expecting the kid to have grown bored mid-answer and become focused on the fountain or the people wandering through the square, but his eyes are fixed only on Yondu. It's unnerving in a way; as if someone's placed a spotlight on him.

"Why d'ya ask?" Yondu continues with a smirk. "Ya thinkin' of stealin' my job?"

Peter shakes his head frantically, though his smile assures Yondu the boy knows he's joking this time around. He seems to be getting better at understanding Yondu's sense of humour, though he's somehow still convinced that the crew will eat him.

Ah well. He's making baby-steps.

They head off just as the clocktower adds an eighth toll which resonates throughout the town. Yondu deliberately leads them down a different path than the one they took yesterday, not wanting to be recognised for his little stunt with the arrow. His past visits to Eili have left every street and alley mapped out in his brain. Even with the short detour it shouldn't take long to reach the bay, and from there it should only be a matter of hours before they're back onboard the Eclector. All they need to do is not get distracted and they'll be home before they know it.

As if hearing his thoughts and deciding to disobey them, Peter lets out a sudden gasp and runs off before Yondu can stop him. He curses the boy under his breath and follows with more urgency than usual, but by the time he catches up with Peter, the boy is too caught up in what's before him to notice his presence.

A hairy, four-legged creature about half Yondu's height is standing idly by a water trough in the middle of the narrow street, its trunk lapping up water while large brown eyes assesses the newcomers. Yondu's seen these beasts many times before – they're often used for the transport of goods on outposts like this one – and honestly can't see why Peter is so enamoured. Nevertheless, he nods in encouragement when Peter asks if he can pet it, and doesn't interrupt when a small hand lightly brushes the soft hair on its head.

"What is he?" Peter asks, continuing to pet the creature's coat. A low, happy groan indicates that he's doing something right.

" _She_ is a Jylax," Yondu corrects him. "The males are hairless. Ugly lookin' things; they don' do well in the sun so ya don' see 'em much. But you'll find ones like her all over the place."

Peter nods upon hearing this information, and giggles when the creature playfully splashes water over him with her trunk. She seems happy enough, with her large eyes sliding closed contentedly as Peter brushes her hair. It isn't common for her kind to lash out violently when they're angered, but the fact that she doesn't seem to mind Peter is still a reassuring one.

"She looks like a weird horse," Peter says to himself, and Yondu can neither confirm or deny the truth of that statement. The boy removes his hand from the Jylax's coat and finally looks back, his eyes brighter than they've ever seemed as a delighted smile breaks across his face. "She's so cool."

Yondu can only shrug at that. Of all the things to impress Peter, a docile Jylax is not what he expected him to be most enamoured with. It's a sign that the boy is likely gentler than he appears; a bitter reminder of how little he belongs on a ship full of Ravagers. That softer streak will be beaten out of him if he stays around too long.

Peter can indulge in his awe for now though. Yondu grants him a few more minutes, silently scouting the area all the while. This street is calmer, with most of the buildings acting as homes rather than businesses, but that doesn't stop a glimmer of suspicion from creeping into his bones as he scans the area. A few doors down, there's a woman hanging clothes out to dry in the sun, and at the end of the street a beggar's offkey singing disturbs the otherwise quiet atmosphere. No threat makes itself known, until Yondu's eyes drift to the opening of an alleyway and spots a grown man hiding in the shadows.

His first thought is that it's another pickpocket, assessing a victim from the cover of darkness, but on closer inspection this doesn't appear to be the case. The man's too bulky for a start. Acquiring food is evidently not a problem for him, and the suggestion of muscles beneath his red shirt implies he hasn't been living on the streets. He doesn't acknowledge Yondu, but the one eye that isn't concealed behind a patch is staring vaguely in their direction; the gaze unwavering even as the seconds tick by. It's when Yondu starts to get the sneaking suspicion that he's seen the man before that he decides getting back to the ship would be the best course of action, and he wraps a hand around Peter's arm and drags him away from the Jylax without warning.

Besides a startled yelp, Peter says nothing and simply lets Yondu drag him along the street as he tries to work out the best route to the bay. The boy seems to have sensed his urgency and remains blessedly quiet, even when Yondu barks an order at him as they slip into a deserted alleyway.

"Stay close an' keep yer head down," he says, and Peter obeys without protest. "If we get into trouble I need ya to stay out o' it and leave the talkin' to me, ya hear?"

They spend the next ten minutes alternating between open streets and quiet alleys, always assessing the way ahead for anyone suspicious. The route is as convoluted as Yondu can make it in the hope that their unpredictability will throw off any trackers, but even in the moments he thinks they might be safe, his head whirls round at every sound and suspicion grips him like a vice. Peter thankfully says nothing and sticks close to Yondu as instructed; so close he may as well be clinging to the leather of his coat. The few people they encounter seem innocent enough, mere shoppers or residents of the planet who couldn't care less for the Ravager captain passing by, but doubt springs into Yondu's mind every time someone so much as glances his way.

They seem to have lost the eye-patched man from the alley. It's possible he hadn't even been a tail, but Yondu knows he can't afford to be careless. Any chance of spending more time on this rock fades as the whirring of ship engines grows louder, signalling that the bay is near. Yondu finds himself relieved by the sound regardless of any prior wish to stay put, and he quickly draws into a deserted alley he knows to be a shortcut.

They're barely half-way along the narrow path before their exit is blocked by an imposing figure stepping into view. The man is large and all too familiar, and Yondu barely has time to curse under his breath before Murlainn lets out a high whistle and more of his men emerge from the shadows.

The captain is flanked by four muscular men with bloodlust clear in their faces. He saunters along the alley to meet them, and though Yondu doesn't dare look back, he can hear footsteps approaching from behind as well. His grip on Peter's arm tightens, but he doesn't tear his eyes from Murlainn's own even as the victorious twinkle in them makes his blood boil.

"Well, if it ain't the elusive Udonta," Murlainn says with a sneer, holding up a gloved hand to signal his men to stop. Seeing him in the flesh only highlights how twisted his appearance has become; a fresh scar stretches along one eyebrow while the faint pink of others takes up more room on his face than untouched flesh. The glee in those dark eyes is overshadowed by a barely contained rage, and what was once immaculate black hair is now an unkempt mass of grey. Exile doesn't suit Murlainn, but it has made him dangerous, and Yondu can feel Peter tense as the man's eyes turn down to acknowledge him. "This must be the Terran runt. Back from the dead, I see."

A low snigger breaks out among their assailants, but it quietens soon enough as Murlainn returns his attention to Yondu. "Don' worry, yer men didn't betray you. This was the closest outpost goin' and I figured you'd been down here a long time - made me wonder whether ya had somethin' to hide. Guess I was right."

"Well done you," Yondu says blankly, silently assessing his situation. As well as the five men in front of him, the voices at his back suggest there are four others at least. His arrow practically burns a hole against his chest, reminding him he could mow down all nine men with ease, but the instant he lashes out he'll be placing Peter in jeopardy. "Now, I'd suggest ya all go on yer merry way and leave us the hell alone."

"Ya know I can't do that," Murlainn says, with an expression that might have been remorseful if he weren't so full of shit. While he's vaguely aware of the others looking to their leader for guidance, Yondu pays them no heed and instead keeps his eyes fixed on Murlainn's own. Reasoning with him won't work, that much is certain, and it's becoming painfully clear that the group is one big time-bomb, waiting for the slightest trigger to set them off.

Whether the silence lasts for minutes or hours, Yondu cannot say, but eventually Murlainn nods to the closest man – a hulking beast with bulging muscles and a large, shaved head. The creature grunts in response to the silent order before stalking forwards, but he's stopped in his tracks as Yondu lets out a high whistle and his arrow comes to rest mere inches from his eye. As though someone has flicked a switch, the world halts as every man fears the consequences of even the smallest movement. Only Murlainn dares move, if only to shake his head and let some of that invulnerability slip away from his face.

"Is that really necessary?" he asks, raising his voice to something that resembles a growl. Only now does Yondu dare look at Peter, and upon seeing the terror on the boy's face, he knows full well that his answer is yes. He doesn't say a word however – the arrow speaking more clearly than he ever could – and Murlainn's infuriation at his silence only intensifies as it continues. "Come on, man. Ten _million_ units, all for one brat! Are ya really willing to give that up?"

"I ain't dealing with that jackass," Yondu says, wishing he'd shared that sentiment before handing twelve children to Ego. His words seem to be the final straw for Murlainn as a muscle twitches in his jaw, his rage barely contained by his flesh. The scent of blood may as well be in the air already given how soon it's going to be spilled.

Murlainn studies him for one final moment, something mournful slipping into his eyes, before he shakes his head and turns to his men once more. "Take the kid. Do what ya will with Udonta."

The man with the arrow pointed at his eye reaches out as if to grab it, but Yondu's too quick for him. He's skewered through the head in seconds and drops to the ground with a sick gurgle, but there's little time for Yondu to focus on that before the other assailants launch at him.

Instinctively, he pushes Peter back and lets the arrow take flight as his heart sings in his chest, but it barely has time to pierce another man's eye before a sharp pain strikes the back of his head and he crumples to his knees. The momentary loss in concentration forces him to lose track of his weapon, and when he tries to reach out to it again he's hindered by a wave of dizziness that has nausea overwhelming him. It isn't long before his cheek is resting against the ground with him having zero clue as to how it ended up there, and he thinks he could happily fall asleep right here.

That is, until he's disturbed by a familiar scream.

He lifts his head as much as he can, and though the world seems to shift on its axis, he can just make out Peter fighting in the arms of one of Murlainn's men, each of his hits punctuated by a feral cry. There's a surprising amount of red dotting his vision, and when Yondu blinks a few times he realises that Peter is lashing out with a knife, slashing his attacker's arm furiously and leaving him howling in pain. An unexpected laugh grips Yondu as he recognises the knife as his own, and something that might be pride grips his chest at the sight of the little thief fighting off a man thrice his size, but worry quickly replaces it as the other men crowd round the boy.

Yondu's head continues to be uncooperative, but he doesn't need his head. His heart gives a jolt as Peter's attacker throws him aside, the boy's tiny frame slamming roughly against a wall before he lies still on the ground. Though it takes more effort than it should, that's all that's needed to have Yondu forcing out a whistle and sending the arrow towards the culprit. His aim is off – the arrow merely pierces the man's shoulder and has him screaming with rage – but he focuses as much as he can and tries again, this time succeeding in finding the heart.

He tries to sit up but that only intensifies the dizziness. Instead, he remains lying and trusts his heart to steer the arrow wherever it needs to go, which ends up being into the heads of several men who are now very interested in killing him. Yondu almost misses Murlainn crouching down to lift Peter into his arms, and he barely has time to react before a gun is pointed at his head and he's forced to turn all his attention to killing his would-be shooter.

In his confusion, he can't tell how many men remain. There cannot be many left standing, but the pained groans from the ground suggest that some of the fallen are still alive, and he can do little but guide his arrow all over the place to wipe out whoever remains.

It hits him during his mindless slaughter that Murlainn has vanished. Peter too.

The silence that comes after the vicious fight only serves to highlight his failure. Yondu should get up, he knows, but his body protests at even the slightest attempt to do so and he knows he cannot fight in this state.

He can't afford to give up though. If he stays here, Murlainn will have delivered Peter to Ego in no time at all and Yondu will have the blood of yet another child on his hands.

He needs to get up. He needs…

… _to rest his eyes,_ his brain tells him as his body drops uselessly to the ground, drained. It's an instruction that, deep down, he knows he should ignore, but the exhaustion and dizziness that consumes him leaves little room for argument.

He doesn't have time to acknowledge the red-hot loathing flooding through his veins as he lets darkness consume him.


	7. Chapter 7

Yondu isn't out for long, which is some small comfort. When his eyes finally crawl open, a faint throb still emanating from the back of his head, the suns are only slightly higher than they'd been last he checked. Given that the alleyway is empty of curious onlookers, Yondu imagines he's been unconscious for twenty minutes at most. This area is quiet, but not quiet enough for several dead crooks to go unnoticed for long, and he's always been rather resilient when it comes to injuries that should knock him out completely.

He supposes he can point to the Kree's influence for that; it's the only thing he'll give them the slightest credit for.

Getting to his feet is a chore. His vision sways and rising feels like a battle against gravity, but somehow he manages it. Once he's upright, he's forced to lean against a wall in order to avoid keeling over and allows himself a minute to catch his breath. A hand reaches behind his head to feel for any damage and comes back red with crusted blood, but there's no evidence of bones shifting beneath his touch so he decides to be an optimist for once. He's pretty sure he'd know by now if he were bleeding into his brain. Given that he seems to remember everything – though seeing as Peter is absent, he wishes he didn't – any damage seems to be temporary, and it doesn't take long to spot the rock that incapacitated him still clutched in a dead man's hand. It's dotted with his blood, though when he leans down to pick it up it's softer than he expects. Out of spite he throws it back at his attacker's head, but it bounces away having formed little more than a chip in the skin.

His minute is up. He needs to form a plan for how to get Peter back and fast. Murlainn isn't an idiot – he'll surely know that so long as Yondu breathes, he'll be coming after him – and chances are his ship is already breaching the atmosphere. It would be in Yondu's best interests to follow him before he jumps into another system, so while the prospect of moving so much as a muscle is enough to make him groan, he slams a fist against the wall and forces himself to take a step.

Finding his arrow is his first priority. Yondu can't remember which of the dead men around him were the last to fall, but that hardly matters. All he needs to do is call out, urge the arrow to come to him, and sure enough its red streak flies to his side in an instant. The weapon is covered in blood and gore, but Yondu simply wipes it on his sleeve before tucking it away.

If things go the way he intends, it won't be long before it's bloodied again.

Upon moving towards the clearing Murlainn and his cronies had emerged from, he finds his gaze falling to the first man who grabbed Peter; the man Peter himself had practically shredded with his stolen knife. The man is a hulking mass of sinewy muscles - those of his arm now slashed to ribbons by the look of it - and Yondu barks out a painful laugh as he remembers the boy fighting with more success than any of them could have anticipated. The pride that flows through him is wrong, and even worse, it hurts. The smarter thing for Peter to do would have been run or comply with his attackers in order to not get hurt himself, but he always was a scrappy little thing. In the coming hours, that streak is as likely to kill him as it is to save him, which only adds to the ticking clock now running through Yondu's head.

The bloodied knife lies mere feet from its victim, and though his body groans in protest, Yondu leans down to pick it up. Peter will want it back when this mess is over.

(It's not technically his to reclaim, but Yondu has others. The boy can have it)

Though it seems to take hours to finally drag himself from the alley and into the sunlight, Yondu knows it can only have been minutes. He raises his head to the sky and squints against the foreign light, the pain less intense than he anticipated. It's a hopeful sign that keeps him going, has him placing one foot in front of the other and ignoring the slowly subsiding nausea in his gut. The bay is nearby – it can't have been long since Murlainn reached it himself – and Yondu ignores the stare of any concerned civilian he passes as he staggers towards the endless rows of ships glinting in the sunlight. His own comes into view before long, her insect-like build making her stand out from the rest, but he's barely made a final bid to reach her before another ship catches his eye.

It's another M-ship, though not one of his. The colours are wrong – a harsh red and black that seems out of place in the morning sun – and he's seen one like it before, at one of Stakar's gatherings. He's bid a drunken farewell to Murlainn outside a similar ship at least once, though he doesn't dare hope the man is still on the planet. The M-ship looks barely large enough to comfortably fit three men, let alone the nine who attacked him, but it's a lead nonetheless. His own ship forgotten, Yondu takes a deep breath and wanders towards the darker vessel in the hopes that he can come across as less broken than he feels.

He's barely yards away when a figure standing guard by the ship comes into view. Rage burns through Yondu's veins as he recognises the scout – his red shirt and black eye-patch giving him away as surely as the fear that grips him when he sees Yondu approach. The man barely has time to make a break for his ship before a high whistle sends an arrow through his foot and pins him to the ground. He howls in pain, causing several traders to turn in search of the commotion, but when he reaches for his blaster Yondu simply whistles again and sends the arrow through his wrist, damaging the nerves and causing the gun to drop to the floor. He's mere feet away by this point, and his adversary barely has time to react before Yondu's grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and dragging him into his own ship.

"Nothin' to see here folks!" he announces to the confused onlookers, raising his voice to be heard over the man's protests. "This man helped steal somethin' of mine. I'm plannin' on takin' it back."

That seems to be reason enough for the surrounding traders to consider his actions justified and move on with their lives. The man caught in Yondu's grip slacks at the knowledge that no help is coming, which only makes pulling him into the ship's interior easier. Once they're inside, Yondu throws him to the floor and closes the ramp over, only for another man to leap at him with a strangled roar. A clenched fist barely misses Yondu's face as he whirls round to greet his attacker, and he allows himself a smirk before sending the arrow into the meat of the man's arm then back around to skewer his thigh. The assailant screams as blood pours from his wounds, collapsing beside his companion and looking up at Yondu with wild fury burning in his eyes.

It's safe to assume Murlainn isn't here, but Yondu wanders around the ship to make certain anyway. Sure enough, there's nothing to find. Likely these men had been left behind to stop him going off in search of Peter, not that they've done a particularly good job on that front. When he returns to the main hall of the ship and finds them cowering pathetically on the ground - red blood spilling between their hands as they try to staunch the flow - he realises that despite their incompetence, they may be his best hope right now.

Gods help him.

"Names?" he demands, delighting in their flinch as the arrow comes to rest at his side like a loyal pet. When no answer comes forth, he points towards the eye-patched man and lowers his voice to a hiss. "You. Tell me."

"Chaorach," the man spits out eventually, before a broken sob claims him. "I wasn' one of them what took yer boy, I swear it. I e'en told Murlainn it weren't right bu' he wouldn't-"

"I saw ya scoutin' us earlier so ya can quit the bullshit," Yondu interrupts, and Chaorach obeys with a startled nod. Yondu turns towards the other man, an ugly little thing with beady black eyes and stubble that's struggling to grow. "What's yer name?"

Those black eyes remain fixed on Yondu for a long time without a reply coming forth, but all it takes is for him to purse his lips and the arrow to edge closer to have the man spitting out his answer in his fear. "Sionnach. S'name Murlainn gave me."

"I don' care where ya got it," Yondu says plainly, before settling on one of the pilots' seats to hide the effort it takes to stand. His dizziness is fading, albeit slowly, but it would be best not to give these men a hint that he has a weakness. The arrow would save him from any attacks, but he imagines he'll get what he wants a lot faster if his captives see him as invulnerable.

A silent assessment is enough to determine Chaorach as being the more exploitable of the two. While Sionnach's rage burns in determined black eyes, Chaorach is trembling and pale with tears threatening to fall at any moment. He doesn't want to die – an understandable sentiment – and Yondu imagines that will make him easier to control.

"Tell me what yer doin' here," he demands, trying to sound reasonable despite the rage threatening to explode within him. When Chaorach looks to his friend, seeking guidance he won't receive, Yondu wills the arrow to edge forwards and revels in the flinch that grips his prey. "Hurry now. If yer honest, I migh' even consider lettin' ya both live."

That flicker of hope is all it takes for Chaorach to gulp down his terror and start talking. "Cap'n's been sendin' us to all the outposts in the system lookin' for ya. Has been for the past week. We didn' find nothin' til we got 'ere last night, round the same time 'e was on yer ship. Sionnach heard someone boastin' in a tavern 'bout a warrior who defended 'is kid with an arrow in the middle o' the street, an' we thought it sounded like you so we decided to stay. I didn' know Murlainn would come 'ere as well, I swear it. We was jus' doin' what he told us."

Yondu inwardly curses himself and forces his expression to remain even. He should have known using the arrow in the open risked placing a target on his back, but he'd hoped – perhaps naively – that nobody on the planet would recognise him or care. Had he not performed that little stunt, he and Peter might now have been safely back on the Eclector and Murlainn would have been left to his suspicions without proof.

He can't focus on the what-ifs right now. Getting caught up in the intricacies of his failures won't save the kid from his father.

"Here's what I think happened," Yondu says, his voice surprisingly calm despite his desire to punch a wall. Or a man; either would do. "I reckon ya heard that little story and instantly got in touch with yer boss knowin' full well he'd come down here and stage an ambush. Am I gettin' warm yet?"

"We didn' take the kid," Chaorach reiterates in a sudden panic, raising his hands as if in surrender. The wound in his wrist is still bleeding sluggishly, a red trail flowing to the elbow. "We weren' there-"

"No, you just followed us around so ya could tell Murlainn where he could find us," Yondu hisses, willing the arrow ever closer. It's barely a foot from Chaorach's chest now and the urge to give it that final push threatens to overwhelm him. He could do it. He'd still have Sionnach to toy with if he did, though he can't see the other man co-operating as fully. "I mean, you're completely innocent in all this, ain't ya? Is that what yer tryin' to say? Cause if that's the case, I bet ya were just strollin' round in the sun earlier rather than keepin' an eye out jus' in case ya happened to see me flyin' after yer boss."

"Murlainn told us to stay behind and look out for ya," Sionnach interjects, throwing an impatient glance towards his friend. Well at least someone's blunt enough to give Yondu the truth. "Said we should call 'im the minute we saw ya. He'd have killed us if we refused."

"Yeah well, I'm gonna kill ya if ya piss me off so I guess it's not yer day, is it?" Yondu gloats with a sneer, before turning his attention to the ship's communication systems. The layout of this vessel is similar to his own M-ship. He could probably work out the systems and beg an audience with Murlainn himself here and now, but alerting the man to his continued survival would likely do more harm than good.

A haphazard plan forms in his mind then. He rises only to grab Chaorach's damaged wrist and drag him towards the comms, ignoring his pained screech.

"Ya know how to reach Murlainn on this?" he asks, and Chaorach nods jerkily in response, not trusting himself to speak.

"Good, cause yer gonna get yer act together and call him," Yondu continues, before leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in an attempt to seem uncaring. "Ya haven't seen me. I ain't gone back to my ship; ya don' even think I've left the alley. Yer gonna ask to leave this shithole of a planet and yer gonna ask for the current coordinates of yer ship, assumin' ya don' already have them. Yer gonna say all this casual-like, as if ya don' have an arrow pointed at yer head, or we're gonna have problems. _You_ -"

At this point, he turns to address Sionnach. The man looks like a ghost, leaning against the wall for support as the blood leaves his body, but he at least has the grace to be calm as Yondu points at him. "You, my friend, are gonna stay quiet while all this is goin' on. Ya so much as breathe an' my arrow'll be plantin' itself in yer heart, understood?"

Sionnach doesn't even flinch at this threat, but he nods in agreement. The man seems to be more of a natural Ravager than Chaorach; possessing the ability to respect the man who bests him even when he has a metaphorical gun to his head.

Yondu lets the plan sink in for the two men; lets Chaorach gather himself before clicking several buttons on the console with hands that shake only a little. Yondu disables the camera while his captive works – telling Charoach to say the video-link is broken if Murlainn asks – and they're all set to go until the man stops with his hand hovering over the call button.

"Murlainn," he utters quietly before staring up at Yondu, his remaining eye bright with fear or pain or both. "What're you gonna do to 'im?"

"I'm gonna put an arrow in his head," Yondu replies simply. He cannot lie; the mental image of the man's death is the only thing keeping him on his feet. The news causes Chaorach to deflate – Murlainn may be an asshole but he's managed to inspire loyalty among his men – though ultimately it seems he values his own survival over that of his captain's. Playing on that weakness, Yondu lowers his voice to a hiss as he says his next words. "The only thing stopping me from doin' the same to you will be a pitch-perfect performance, ya understand?"

Chaorach gives a single nod before gathering his breath and hitting the call button. A low tone reverberates throughout the ship as the signal locates Murlainn out in the stars, and it takes a few minutes for the man's gruff voice to come through the speakers.

"Well?" Murlainn asks, his impatience clear. It seems he isn't one for excessive niceties when his own men are involved.

"Yondu ain't gonna show up, I reckon," Chaorach says casually, the lie betrayed only by a small glance towards his captor that Murlainn thankfully cannot see. "His ship's still 'ere an' Sionnach's been keepin' an eye on the alley, but no-one's come out. Looks like he's out of it, or dead even."

There's a pause at that which fills the room with a heavy tension. Yondu looks over to Sionnach only to find a bitter hatred staring back, but it's been a long time since such an expression would frighten him on a healthy man, let alone one suffering from wounds Yondu himself dealt.

Eventually, Murlainn's voice returns, and if Yondu didn't know better he might have described his tone as remorseful.

"That so?" he asks, before descending into silence once more. Chaorach doesn't seem to know if his captain expects an answer and so wisely remains silent. "It's a shame to lose Udonta. If only he weren't so stubborn about the kid, we coulda had a good deal goin'."

It takes all of Yondu's restraint not to laugh. There'll be time to call Murlainn out on his bullshit later, but first he needs to actually find him. As if sensing his impatience, Chaorach clears his throat before continuing with his assigned task.

"Say, we were wonderin' if we could come back to the ship?" he asks, his tone hopeful but not cloyingly so. "Seein' as we have what we came for… I'm assumin' the kid's alright?"

"He's out of it but he'll live. Hell, even if Ego deducts some units for damaged goods, we're still talkin' millions," Murlainn responds, and Yondu can't help but feel slightly lighter at the news that Peter's alive. He hadn't thought to make Chaorach check – hadn't known whether Murlainn would see that as prying and grow suspicious – but he's grateful for the confirmation. It might make the slaughter that's bound to happen later worth it.

There's another pause which makes Yondu almost miss the video call. Using it would reveal his presence and destroy the entire plan, certainly, but it'd be a lot easier to read Murlainn's responses if his face were visible. These pauses could mean any number of things and there's no way at present for Yondu to figure out what the man's thinking. He doubts Murlainn knows he's there, but the paranoia that comes with the thought eats away at him regardless.

It's a relief when the other captain's voice returns, sounding rather disinterested in what his men decide to do.

"Aye, ya can come back," he says, and a faint tapping is heard in the background. "'ere's the coordinates. Don' take too long - I doubt Ego will want to be kept waitin' any longer than he already has."

"Aye Cap'n," Chaorach says, heaving a quiet sigh of relief as the coordinates to their ship comes onscreen. His task is almost done. "We won' be long."

Murlainn cuts the call without another word and the silence that falls upon the ship lends a smothering heaviness that only Chaorach's broken sob can break. The effort it must have taken for him to remain casual during the call seems to have taken its toll. By the time he's pulled himself together enough to face Yondu – face pale and dripping with cool sweat – his body is gripped with a hopelessness that must come from having sentenced your captain to death. It's almost pathetic how Chaorach doesn't seem to have the energy to be angry – all the bitter rage coming instead from his silent companion – and instead he looks up at his tormentor with something that might be hope.

"So," Chaorach utters, his voice soft and breathless. "What happens no-"

He's answered by a whistle that sends the arrow through his remaining eye. His head jerks backwards with the force of it, the harsh crack overshadowed only by Sionnach's anguished cry, and his body slumps in his chair like a puppet with its strings cut.

"He did everythin' you asked!" Sionnach screams, spit leaving his mouth as he scrambles back against the wall in fear. His prior defiance seems to have left him now that more blood has been spilled, but Yondu couldn't care less. Instead, he occupies himself with typing the coordinates into the ship's destination and pushes the dead man aside so he can settle on the pilot's chair.

"Yeah, he did," he says blankly, wondering if it really is such a surprise that his words don't mean shit. These men were walking corpses the minute they decided crossing him and helping steal Peter away was a good idea.

"He weren't lyin' either," Sionnach continues, his chest heaving with a mixture of pain and terror. He really does look like a cornered rat now that Yondu pays attention. Those beady black eyes lose their menace easily when they're filled with desperate tears. "He told everythin' true, he weren't lyin'-"

"I know," Yondu says, silently calling out to his arrow. Obediently, it removes itself from Chaorach's eye-socket before starting a graceful dance in the air. "I believed him."

He almost misses Sionnach's pleading "No, wait!" as he gives off another high whistle. Not that it matters; the man's dead before he can utter another word. Yondu catches the arrow upon its return and closes his eyes at the sudden silence, his heart calming as it always does after a kill and the weight of what he must do next finally sinking in.

To save Peter will likely mean taking down Murlainn's entire crew. He doesn't know how many will stand in his way – there could be ten men or thousands – and though the blow to his head has hardly left him debilitated, it's not going to help his situation either. The moment the crew are alerted to his presence, they'll all be upon him like a plague and they're bound to be on their guard anyway now they finally have Peter in their hands.

There's an easy answer to all of this, and he loathes himself for even thinking of it.

He could give up on Peter. Give him up for lost and leave Murlainn to his riches. He could avoid what may well be a losing fight and fly back to the Eclector alone. The guilt of doing so will consume him for what remains of his life and will have his heart shrivelling more than it already has, but in the end, when one has inadvertently killed twelve children what difference does one more make?

The notion has barely entered his mind when he realises he could never go through with any of it. He promised to keep Peter safe, and though he's done a rather poor job of that so far, he can at least keep the boy alive a little longer. Mowing down Murlainn's crew in the process is a small detail – a minor obstacle put in his way – but it's one that not even a head-wound can stop him from overcoming.

He's let himself care, Yondu realises as the stolen ship takes flight and leaves the outpost behind, and that realisation only serves to add to his list of failures.

He can start making up for them as soon as he has Peter back safe.

* * *

 **A/N - I may have gone overboard with the Gaelic names here, but Tullk in the movies has a _very_ Scottish accent so I'm using that as justification. Chaorach roughly translates to 'sheep' while Sionnach (again roughly) translates to 'fox'. My plan for the latter was to go with the Gaelic for 'rat', but unfortunately it didn't work as well.**

 **Thank you for reading this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. The next one should be up by tomorrow.**


	8. Chapter 8

It takes two hours of trawling through space for Murlainn's ship to come into view.

The vessel is as ugly as her captain; a meshwork of scrap that appears to be second-hand, with twisted metal turrets emerging from the main body. At a guess, Yondu would say she's stolen goods and must have been acquired recently. He doesn't recognise the design from previous meetings with the Ravagers, and it's far too small to house the sizable crew Murlainn led in his heyday. Cutting himself off from Stakar must have damaged any goodwill he inspired, leaving him with only those as despicable as himself while those with a sliver of a conscience fled or were slain for their defiance.

Yondu can't know any of this for sure, but the patchwork appearance of his adversary's home does send a flicker of hope through his chest. It's a sign that Murlainn may be more vulnerable than he appears, which will only make destroying him all the more effortless.

As the stolen M-ship makes a casual approach to the docking bay, Yondu places her on auto-pilot and drags Sionnach's body towards the pilot's seat to keep up appearances. The man is slightly less of a mess than his now eyeless companion, and though it takes some effort to stop him from keeling over, anyone paying attention should see what appears to be a familiar, living pilot onboard. Of course, if they decide to be thorough and scan for life then the charade will be up, but Yondu doubts they'll go that far. Such measures would be expected of a more sophisticated crew than the one he's likely to encounter.

Yondu wastes his remaining few minutes preparing for what's to come. Digging through the ship's supplies unearths some painkillers which helps dull the throbbing in his head, and though part of him still wants to collapse, the adrenaline coursing through his veins is enough to keep him alert. His arrow rests in his hands, thrumming whenever he silently calls to it. The weapon won't let him down – it never has – so long as he maintains his focus on what he has to do. He can't allow himself to go soft for an instant; as soon as he's outside he needs to eliminate every man he sees. The only exception will be if any of them threaten Peter, but even then, he doubts they'll be willing to damage their cargo any more than they already have.

This should be simple, though his traitorous heart roaring in his chest makes it seem otherwise.

He can't help but smirk when he remembers Peter's small whisper of " _You've hurt people_." It's true, he has. It's an instinct as ingrained into him as breathing, and the fact that he's about to hurt a hell of a lot more for the boy's sake is strangely poetic. Perhaps the thought of the bodies he's going to bury this very day should disturb him, just as it will Peter if he sees it, but the only thing that grips him as the M-ship is guided into the belly of Murlainn's vessel is anticipation.

Not leaping out all-guns-blazing demands more patience than he likely possesses, but as the ship shudders to a halt he somehow manages it. The silence stretches with an agonising slowness, and Yondu becomes aware of every breath escaping his lungs as he closes his eyes. There's a humming beyond the thin walls that suggests the area's being sealed off, separated from the vacuum of space, and not long after a final crash reverberates around the hangar, Yondu's thoughts are interrupted by a voice coming over the comms.

" _Ya can come out now, guys. Cap'n wants us to head within the hour."_

Yondu doesn't react. Part of him itches to simply emerge now and unleash hell, but he can guess that there's at least one eye on the M-ship at present. The voice has access to the comms, therefore has the means to alert the entire ship if, say, some random blue man were to emerge from the ship in place of his friends. The longer Yondu can put off widespread pandemonium the better. Admittedly, he knows it's something he can't avoid altogether and he needs to get out of here before he finds himself halfway to Ego's planet, but a lack of patience is likely to get him killed if he isn't careful.

" _Chaorach? Sio?"_ The formless voice rings throughout the ship once more, a sliver of impatience slipping into his tone. " _Are you guys bein' assholes and ignorin' me again? Cause now's really not the time."_

The clock is ticking. Yondu finally dares sneak a glimpse beyond the window to the bay beyond, and he can see the comms tower straight ahead with a lone crewmember staring his way with suspicion. There doesn't seem to be many ships in the hall – Yondu's limited view shows only one besides his own – and for a vessel that's planning an onward journey in the coming minutes, there's little evidence of activity. Perhaps the bay is further from the main hub of the ship than he's come to expect from the Eclector's layout.

It doesn't take long for two guards to emerge from the double-doors at the end of the hangar and approach the stolen M-ship. They're armed, but their weapons will be no match for his arrow, and they seem more concerned with their own conversation than the possibility of a fight.

Perhaps Murlainn and his crew really did think they could make it this far without trouble.

Yondu takes a deep breath in preparation before rising to his feet and standing before the ramp of the M-ship, not moving an inch when he hears a bang followed by one of the guard's voices.

"You guys alright in there?"

When no answer presents itself, a flurry of movement from outside occurs and Yondu can hear the mechanical whine of the ramp being lowered. It's barely halfway to the ground before he's brought face-to-face with the two men, their casual grip on their weapons suggesting they weren't expecting an attack, and a vicious sneer crosses his face when he welcomes the new arrivals with a whistle.

Fear barely has sink in for the guards before they're collapsing with sizzling holes in their chests, and for good measure Yondu aims for the comms tower to take out the man residing there. The slaughter is over in mere seconds. He takes a moment upon his arrow's return to listen for any alarm being raised, only to hear nothing. There's a chance that someone will later check the cameras and spot the dead men in the hangar, but for now the ship is eerily quiet even in the face of danger.

Good. That's as ideal a situation as Yondu could have hoped for.

He doesn't waste any time after that. He steps over his prone victims to avoid the pooling blood and emerges into the vast hangar, walking towards the doors with purpose. They slide open as he approaches, leading onto a long, seemingly deserted corridor, though the distant sounds of activity are finally making themselves known. The hum of machinery is clearer here as pipes and vents sneak behind steel walls, and footfalls from the floor above suggest the crew are busier than the earlier quiet suggested. Yondu stalks forwards without slowing, keeping his ears peeled for any activity to avoid another sneak-attack, and he can't mistake the bloodlust that's flowing through him now. The logical part of his brain wants to end this quickly and get Peter off this ship, but he can't deny the part that wants to drag this out and enjoy it for as long as possible.

That's a part of his mind he'll have to shut out for now. Wasting time to indulge in every kill will only increase his chances of failure.

The ship's corridors become less industrial in appearance as he wanders deeper into her heart; cold steel slowly replaced with painted white. The sounds of nearby activity grow louder with every step, and he finds himself slowing to a halt as voices finally emerge from a side corridor. They're getting closer, at least two men locked in conversation, and Yondu listens in the hope of gleaning any useful information while his arrow remains primed at his side.

"…ya hear what Ego's offerin' for the kid? No wonder Cap'n's goin' to all this trouble."

"Aye. What was it, ten million? What brat's worth that much?"

"This one apparently. Don' know why; the runt's a little beast. Ya hear he tried to tear Griogair's throat out with 'is teeth?"

"Didn't hear that. 'eard he bit Conal's hand when he made a grab for 'im though. Kid ain't worth the effort by the sound o' it."

"Tell that to Murlainn. 'e's the one who was so desperate to find 'im. Ya can bet _we_ won't see a penny o' that reward money, I'm tellin ya that now."

The voices are now accompanied by loud footsteps as the pair grow closer, unaware of the danger lurking around the corner. Yondu isn't surprised that Peter's apparently kept fighting all this time, but any pride is overshadowed by his concern over what punishment such actions will have wrought. Murlainn wouldn't dare kill Peter, but there are other ways to hurt someone. Yondu can't help the sudden desire to speed things along in order to spare the boy from any horrors he may soon be exposed to.

He starts by unleashing his arrow upon the two men emerging from the side-corridor, and they collapse mid-conversation without realising what hit them.

This time, Yondu's actions don't go unnoticed. There's a cry of horror from the end of the main corridor that has him looking into the eyes of a man he hadn't seen before now. The newcomer turns on his heel and runs, still screaming, but Yondu's arrow is faster and quickly pierces its victim through the heart. His panicked cries have been heard, however, and the distant activity grows louder by the second as curious eyes are led to the source of the commotion. In the blink of an eye, the empty corridor fills with men emerging from branching rooms, and Yondu doesn't have time to think before he lets his heart take over and sends his arrow whizzing through the gathering crowds.

The screams and gasps of dying men forms a grotesque symphony as Yondu starts moving again, walking along the corridor with a strange calm as enemies fall around him. Even the few who survive long enough to charge at him are vanquished quickly; the arrow boosted by a drive Yondu hasn't had in months. As the terrified screams of " _He's here!"_ and a harsh alarm overwhelms the ship, Yondu lets the arrow take on a life of its own, mowing down unsuspecting crew-members as it goes from room to room. Any regard for his own life is forgotten as he draws closer to what he assumes to be the flight-deck.

His mind only gives the arrow one instruction as it goes on a rampage, the message emphasised by the glowing red of his headpiece.

 _Harm no child,_ he tells it, knowing deep down it will obey. _Don't hurt Peter._

It isn't long before the screaming reaches its coda. Soon enough, the only men Yondu encounters are already dead; blank eyes staring at him accusingly as he passes. A better man may have been disturbed by the sight of such deeds, but he can't afford such a weakness here and instead simply ploughs on, kicking aside any body that gets in his way. The alarm is still ringing but the panicked response to it has lessened in the last few minutes. What few men remain alive are no longer a concern, and even when one does emerge from the shadows to shakily aim a gun at Yondu, his fearful expression becomes blank as the arrow returns via his heart.

Eventually even the alarm dies, though the echoes of its incessant ringing still pierce Yondu's ears. The new silence is oddly refreshing despite the brutality that caused it, and Yondu lets his eyes wander around a corridor now filled only with ghosts. The once spotless white of the walls is spattered with various shades of blood - ranging from red to blue to grey - with none of his own having been spilled. He isn't entirely unscathed though; now that the adrenaline is wearing off, so too are the effects of the painkillers, and that faint throb is returning slowly but surely.

He only has one more person to finish off before he can end this and rest. It seems like days since he awoke on the peaceful outpost, his back aching thanks to an ancient chair, and the desire to get off this vessel and forget the events of the last few hours is overwhelming.

The flight deck isn't far ahead. Though his body suddenly protests at movement, Yondu forces one foot in front of the other as he drags himself closer to the man who caused all this. Yondu wonders how much Murlainn has seen of his crew's slaughter; wonders if he knows the boogeyman is approaching him too. Though it would be best if Murlainn were wholly ignorant, Yondu knows this cannot be the case. Besides, there's a certain thrill in imagining the man who's caused him so much grief cowering in terror.

That's not exactly what he finds.

The doors to the flight deck open without protest, bringing Yondu face to face with Murlainn waiting on the pilot's seat, his expression unchanging as his assailant arrives. Peter is nowhere to be seen – Yondu can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing – and though displayed footage from the ship clearly shows the bodies of his men, Murlainn doesn't seem to be armed or even have any intention of attacking. To Yondu's surprise, the man seems… resigned. His face is white as a sheet but gives no other indication of terror. Instead, he merely sends a polite nod Yondu's way before staring at the arrow with calm anticipation.

Yondu sends it towards Murlainn as intended, but instead of aiming for the heart he guides it into his stomach instead. This gets the man to lose his feigned chill as he curses in pain and keels over, clutching his wound and collapsing to the floor. Blood spills over his hands, though sluggishly, and he stumbles back against the console before staring up at Yondu and coughing out a harsh laugh.

"Nice to see you too, Udonta," Murlainn says breathlessly. He reaches up to the console and blindly feels around until his hand grasps a hip-flask, which he then brings to his lips. Whatever's contained within causes his face to screw up, but he recovers quickly and extends the flask to Yondu. "One last drink?"

"Where's the boy?" Yondu asks plainly, ignoring the offer in favour of carrying out what he came here to do. His question draws another laugh from Murlainn, and spots of blood bubble against his lips.

"Safe," he promises, and despite everything that's happened, Yondu believes him. "Had to rough 'im up a little – he wouldn't stop fightin' you see – but he ain't hurt bad. You'll find 'im in one of the store cupboards in the cargo hold."

Suspicion nags at Yondu's spine even though every instinct screams at him that Murlainn is telling the truth. He knows him well enough by now to recognise a lie. "Why are ya tellin' me this?"

"Because you'd torture me if I didn't, an' I ain't gettin' out o' this alive anyway," Murlainn says matter-of-factly, taking another sip and closing his eyes as the alcohol starts to have the desired effect. He extends the offer again, and this time Yondu takes the flask before settling on the floor in front of his conquest. "I won' pretend to know why ya care so much for the boy, but I've jus' watched ya wipe out my entire crew to get to 'im. I know a losin' battle when I see one."

Yondu shrugs at the response, knowing it's about as good as he's going to get, and takes a sip from the flask. The Xandarian whisky that passes his lips is a strong one, but the burn it sends down his throat is pleasant. He closes his eyes as a fire spreads throughout his chest, and returns Murlainn's smile when he passes the flask back to the dying man.

"Good stuff, ain't it?" Murlainn says proudly, before settling the silver flask on the floor. He winces as the movement pulls at his wound, and his hands instinctively press harder on his stomach as though doing so will keep the blood in a little longer. "Look, I gotta ask. Why the change in heart?"

When Yondu's only response to that is a raised eyebrow, Murlainn elaborates.

"You were Ego's most reliable supplier once. Brought 'im every kid he asked for, no questions asked. Until one day, some Terran comes along and ya don' show up, even when the price gets racked up higher an' higher. It can't have been fun, dealin' with assholes like me who wanted to take the boy off yer hands, so why go through all the trouble of keepin' him?"

The reminder that Ego once relied on him and that the entire galaxy seemed to know this has shame pooling in Yondu's gut. "I didn' know what he was doin' to the kids we sent. I wouldn' have done any of it if I'd known."

"Bullshit," Murlainn spits, though it lacks the venom one might expect. His eyes close as he draws in a painful breath, and there's a surprising amount of sincerity in their black depths when he opens them again. "We all knew wha' he was doing, we jus' didn't want to admit it to ourselves. Didn' matter if we felt like shit so long as the money was good."

"If knowin' what he was doin' makes ya feel like shit, why keep doin' it?" Yondu hisses, not bothering to hide his fury this time around. True, his ignorance over Ego's deeds should have subsided earlier, but as soon as he found out about the atrocities he was helping commit, he ran away. He took Peter and tried to keep him safe, even when he was hounded by those who wanted the rewards the boy would bring.

That doesn't make him a good man, he knows that. Hell, he only fought so hard to protect Peter at first because doing so helped ease his conscience; helped him believe he wasn't totally irredeemable even when Stakar's exile suggested otherwise.

It takes Murlainn a while to answer him. His eyes become fixed on an unremarkable spot on the floor, and Yondu would think he was dead if he didn't break out of his reverie to reach for the flask. The burn as the whisky goes down seems to hurt this time around, and the sight of Murlainn's wince is a satisfying one.

"I know I'm a piece of shit," he admits eventually, a weak smile pulling at his lips without meeting his eyes. "I let the promise of money make my decisions for me, I won' lie about that. But ya should have seen some o' the places we found those kids, Yondu. Most of 'em were on the streets, either cooking in the sun or freezin' every night. They didn' have enough to eat. They sure as hell didn' have any mothers around."

"See, we 'ad a choice. We could leave 'em on their planets to suffer and die slowly - or worse, be sold into slavery. Or we could take 'em to Ego. The guy's a monster, but one thing ya can say for 'im is that he don' want to hurt his children. He makes sure they don' suffer, not like they would at home."

Yondu scoffs, and the urge to grab the flask off Murlainn and down the rest threatens to take over. This isn't a conversation that sober men should be having. "Is that what ya told yerself to make ya feel better? That handin' those kids over was the _kind_ thing to do?"

"Didn' make it feel any better," Murlainn says, raising his eyes to meet Yondu's. "I lost most of my crew cause of what I did. I cut myself off from someone who might as well have been a father. Worst part is, I know I deserve all that. But the money… for a long time, the money made it feel like it was worth it."

"It wasn't," Yondu says. Murlainn looks back to the still-playing footage from his ship – sees his crew reduced to broken shells – and nods in bitter agreement.

They descend into silence after that. The flask gets passed back and forth, getting lighter each time it reaches Yondu's hands, and he can feel a pleasant buzz simmering beneath his skin. He doesn't drink enough to mess with his mind – Murlainn may be dying, but he's still a threat so long as he breathes – but it's enough for the alcohol to wipe the pain from his head and the exhaustion from his bones. It's Murlainn who finishes it, tipping the remaining contents into his mouth before throwing the silver aside and resting his head against the body of the console.

Yondu finds himself waiting for something to happen. Whether he's waiting for someone to speak or for Murlainn to die, he doesn't know.

The former is what happens first.

"Do you really think Ego won't find him?"

Yondu throws Murlainn a dangerous look as the words pass blood-spattered lips, but the man simply raises his hands in surrender before lazily dropping them over his wound. His posture has descended into a boneless slouch and more blood seems to be on the floor than in his body, but it seems he has enough life left in him to gloat.

Or not. It hits Yondu that the words hadn't been uttered with any menace or threat, only curiosity. He doesn't grace the question with an answer - frankly he doesn't want to think about Ego laying hands on Peter after everything that's happened - but that doesn't dissuade Murlainn from carrying on.

"I ain't gonna try an' change yer mind," he promises, his voice reduced to a huff. "Just statin' facts. Ego's gonna outlive us all. Ya could spend the rest o' yer life protecting the boy, but the minute you're gone, there'll be nothing stopping Ego from takin' what's his. But when he finds him, and he will, yer boy won' feel anything. It'll be painless."

Murlainn says that as if it's meant to be reassuring. As if Yondu can rest easy knowing that Peter's doomed to die, but hey, at least it won't hurt. He wonders if that's what Murlainn tells himself before he goes to sleep; that the children he's led to the slaughter weren't made to suffer, despite how they shouldn't have had to die in the first place. Ego's motivations are beyond their understanding – his reasons for wiping out his own progeny unknown even now – but the loss of all those young lives means that whatever he's planning will never be worth it.

Murlainn can spout all the bullshit he likes. Nothing will make Yondu hand Peter over to his father, no matter how grim the alternatives end up being.

"Tell me, can you really say the same if he stays with you?" Murlainn asks, sitting up as straight as he can and letting some life back into his voice. "Can ya really say the boy won' suffer when yer crew grow tired of him and tear him apart? Tell me true, how long do ya think he'll last under your _protection_?"

"He'll last longer than you," Yondu says bluntly, taking that as a cue to rise to his feet. The very child they're discussing is somewhere on this ship and needs him. The thought of Peter trapped on his own - having no idea what any of those screams and alarms meant or even if anyone is coming for him - sends discomfort racing through Yondu's heart, and for once he doesn't bother denying any feelings for the boy. Once everything is back to normal, he will have to bury his sentiment before his crew grow suspicious of it, but there is no-one to hide from here.

Least of all Murlainn.

The man's eyes remain fixed on Yondu, some of his earlier resignation fading and fear slipping into his face when a red pulse emanates from the floating arrow. He opens his mouth to speak, but Yondu silences him with a single thought and catches the arrow upon its return, wiping the fresh blood off with his sleeve before tucking the weapon into his coat.

He has no more need of it today.

Yondu doesn't spare Murlainn's body a second glance as he wanders towards the doors, his mind set only on finding Peter and getting him home safe.

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 **A/N - It turns out the John Wick soundtrack is a pretty great muse when you're writing a character going on a murderous rampage...**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter!** **I'm not sure when I'll have the next one up but I'll be as quick as I can.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N - Sorry for the slight delay with this one. I blame a combination of work and this chapter wrestling with me a little as I was writing/editing it. Hopefully it came out okay in the end :)**

 **The last part will be a short epilogue to wrap things up, so I'll hopefully have this story completed by Friday at the latest. Thank you so much for reading to this point and for all of your reviews/favourites/follows!**

* * *

It turns out the cargo hold is hidden in the underbelly of the patchwork ship, beneath even the vast hangar in which Yondu arrived. The journey to it is a long - albeit simple – one, and there's a chilling eeriness in wandering through corridors populated only by the dead; each footfall louder for the absence of any other sound. Even the hum of the engines seems muted, as though the ship has frozen in time now there's no-one left to fly her. Yondu doesn't let the silence comfort him entirely. He still keeps an ear out for any survivors awaiting the opportune moment to strike, but his mind is considerably calmer now than it was an hour ago.

What the consequences of his vengeful massacre will be, he cannot say, but for now the immediate threat seems to have passed.

His approach towards the hold is marked by the return of harsh steel walls and a bitter chill. This area had been quiet even with a living crew, and now it feels like all sound has been sucked into a vacuum. There's a sameness to his surroundings that has him almost missing the stairwell he's looking for; a rickety metal structure spiralling into darkness. Descending the stairs feels like wandering into a black void, however as Yondu travels further into the unknown, his efforts are rewarded by a light which flickers upon sensing his presence, guiding him the rest of the way.

He finds himself in a clinically white hallway, the other end of which opens onto a vast storeroom, but he doubts he'll need to go that far. There are several branching cupboards on both sides, each guarded by a locked door, and Yondu wastes no time in hammering on each one and calling out Peter's name.

At first, he gets no response besides the echo of his own voice. These doors are thick – sheer metal – and there's a chance that even if the boy is conscious enough to answer him, his voice won't carry. Not that that would matter. If Yondu can't track Peter down this way then he'll simply resort to breaking every door down, but the continued silence has his heart clenching more than he'd like to admit. There's six rooms in total, and when banging on the fourth yields no response he wonders if Murlainn had been lying about the boy's location to spite him. Any doubt fades, however, upon approaching the fifth and hearing a muffled voice behind the door.

The door doesn't budge when he grabs the handle, but that's hardly a problem. One whistle is all that's needed to have the arrow slicing through the lock as easily as it does flesh, and when he tries again the door slides open with ease.

He's not entirely sure what he expects to find within the small room. Something that might be fear grips him as he adjusts to the poor light and searches for Peter, but a flurry of movement from the corner assures him he's found the right place.

Peter's held in place by chains like some feral beast; his arms pulled back in a manner that must ache horribly. His eyes are covered by a ragged blindfold while his voice is muffled by a similar gag around his mouth, suppressing his wild screams as he kicks out blindly against an imagined attacker. Yondu approaches slowly, not wanting to startle the boy more than he already has, and makes note of the growing bruise on his forehead and a gash across one eyebrow. Otherwise he seems to be in one piece, but the sight of even those small injuries has a useless rage burning in Yondu's chest. There's no need for anger anymore, he knows. All those worth blaming are dead.

"Kid?" Yondu calls steadily, and Peter stops his useless flailing as he recognises the voice. "Relax, it's me. I'm gonna get ya outta here."

A sob grips the boy's small frame as the words sink in, and Yondu takes that as an invitation to set about freeing him. He starts by removing the gag around the boy's mouth and letting him catch his breath, before assessing the rusty chains holding his wrists behind his back. Tearing them apart with the arrow would be easy enough but he doesn't want to risk harming Peter in the process, so he searches for the lock holding them tight and scans the room for any sign of a key. He doesn't dare hope to find it, and yet he does; a small glint of silver catching his eye on the floor, right beside the boy's discarded backpack, coat and – thank the gods – music player. Yondu quickly grabs it before returning to the chains, testing the key in the lock and grinning as a soft click reaches his ears. Once his hands are freed, Peter breathes a sigh of relief and softly massages the bruises lining his wrists, trying to hide a small wince without success.

"They ever tell ya why you were taken?" Yondu asks, trying to sound casual even as his heart hammers in his chest. If Peter knows about Ego then he'll never trust Yondu again – justifiably so - and what little innocence has survived these hellish few months will likely be snuffed out entirely.

Peter shaking his head has selfish relief rushing through him, but he can't afford to scold himself for that now. "They said something 'bout money, I think."

"Yeah, that's what it always comes down to with those jackasses," Yondu spits, ignoring that that was his sole motivator as well once. Hell, for the most part it still is, albeit he's learned to enforce certain limits in the wake of his business with Ego. "But ya don't need to worry 'bout them anymore. I've seen to that."

"I didn't think you were gonna come," Peter utters softly, and Yondu doesn't miss the way he tenses once the words are released into the open. The boy's clearly been brave – there aren't even tear-tracks marking his face – but there's only so much a child can take, and it seems he's finally able to betray his fear. In front of Yondu of all people.

Yondu's not entirely sure what to make of that.

"Yeah well, here I am," he says matter-of-factly, before taking Peter's arm and guiding him to his feet. It takes more effort than it should as Peter's legs shake uneasily, but he's upright soon enough and able to stand on his own. Without thinking, Yondu goes to remove the blindfold – the final relic of the boy's captivity – before stopping in his tracks.

There's a fair distance to travel yet before they make it to the hangar. This area was quieter than the central hub, but Yondu knows they'll still encounter grotesque sights en route – the broken bodies of men _he_ killed – and a desire to shield Peter from that grips him before he can stop it. Certainly, the boy witnessed enough violence this morning to know what his protector is capable of, but he doesn't need any further reminders of that right now. Not after everything that's happened.

"Kid?" Yondu says, and Peter's head tilts towards him. As though just now remembering that the blindfold is to blame for the oppressive darkness, he raises newly freed hands to peel it off, but Yondu stops him before he can do so. "I'm gonna ask ya to keep that on just a little longer."

Peter takes that news about as well as one might expect. His head shakes frantically and a soft 'No' passes his lips, the idea of further darkness clearly a distressing one, but Yondu remains patient as he explains.

"There's some stuff I don' want ya seein'," he admits, wanting to be honest in spite of everything. "I ain't gonna force ya to wear that thing but I'd rather ya did. Unless ya can promise you'll keep yer eyes shut 'til I say otherwise?"

It doesn't take long for Peter to consider his options. Yondu can see the tension in his muscles relax at the latter suggestion, and he reluctantly accepts defeat and lets the boy remove the blindfold. The light drifting in from the corridor has Peter squinting after so long kept in darkness, and likely worsens an already impressive headache judging by his wince. As he adapts to the change, Yondu turns to the small pile of belongings and quickly hands over the boy's backpack and coat. When he picks up the music-player, he examines it as closely as he can and is relieved upon finding it unscathed. There'd probably have been some way to salvage the music if it came to that, but he can only imagine how distraught Peter would be if this whole ordeal was topped off by losing his mother's final gift.

"Ya wanna listen to yer music?" he asks, seeing Peter's eyes brighten with hope at the sight of the device. The question earns him an enthusiastic nod, and Yondu carefully slides orange headphones around the boy's ears before randomly clicking the buttons on the main body of the player. He must have a few false starts – the buttons are decorated with useless shapes that give him no indication of what they actually do – but eventually he can hear the soft music and something in Peter relaxes at the sounds; the familiarity comforting him even in this dark prison. Yondu holds out the device, refusing to let go until it's safely in Peter's bruised hands, and raises his voice only a little to ensure his next words are heard and understood.

"I'm gonna carry ya out of here," he says, and though the idea doesn't seem appealing to either of them, Peter doesn't argue. "I want you to close yer eyes and don' open them until I say. It ain't too far, I promise."

The idea of surrendering to darkness and the uncertainty that comes with it isn't a pleasant one, judging by Peter's hesitation, and Yondu's tempted to relent and tell him he can keep his eyes open if he wants to. The way ahead isn't any more horrifying than what Peter's already been exposed to, though Yondu would prefer to spare the boy from seeing the effects of his handiwork.

After a long moment, however, Peter utters a quiet "okay" and offers up a weak smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. Yondu supposes that's enough.

Peter's a skinny thing to look at, but when Yondu lifts him in his arms, he may as well be weightless. Thin arms cling to him so tightly it promises to hurt before long, and a small head buries against his neck as though hiding from the outside world. While Yondu can't tell whether Peter has closed his eyes or not, he doesn't bother reminding him as he leaves the tiny cupboard behind. What Peter decides to do ultimately isn't up to him after all.

The trek upstairs seems even more precarious now, but they emerge onto the main corridor without incident. Despite this section having been emptier than the heart of the ship, Yondu can still see a trail of corpses along their route; permanently startled eyes surrounding him on all sides. He ignores them as best he can, finding comfort in the fact that nothing in Peter's body language suggests he's seen them too. If he listens closely, he can make out the pleasant melody that's consuming the boy's attention. The music is a much nicer alternative to the echoes of dying men, and Yondu focuses on the muffled vocals and strumming instruments as he walks; ensuring the precious weight in his arms is secure all the way.

They reach the hangar in five minutes that feels like twenty, and automatic doors slide open when they approach. Yondu spies the black and red M-ship in which he arrived and baulks at the thought of the bodies he will find within; quickly deciding to take one of the others instead. He approaches one that looks like it's been drenched in silver paint, and when he pulls the lever to lower the ramp, a mechanical whine follows without complaint. The previous owner must have considered the ship safe within the confines of their home – enough to leave it unguarded at least - but seeing as they aren't alive to miss it, Yondu has zero qualms about taking it as his own.

Considering he was forced to leave his own ship on the outpost, he feels he's owed.

As soon as the ramp reascends, sealing them inside with a satisfying clunk, Yondu sets Peter down and informs him he can open his eyes. Even above the noise of his music, Peter hears him well enough to obey and uses his recovered sight to scan the new ship with interest. It's a slightly older model than the others, but Yondu's familiar enough with the layout to settle by the controls and start working on establishing a communication link. He doesn't notice Peter climbing onto the co-pilot's seat at first, but when he looks up, he finds the boy watching him work with his headphones around his neck. The music's still coming from them, but for once Peter's interests lie elsewhere and his precious device goes unnoticed. Yondu merely shrugs at that notion before returning to work; typing in the Eclector's details and establishing a call.

This ship doesn't have a video-link, so he supposes he can't blame Kraglin when his exhausted voice comes over the comms; barely-masked irritation hiding beneath the surface.

"Murlainn?" he asks, and Yondu resists the urge to bark out a laugh. These ships must all be registered in their captain's name. "What, ya leave somethin' behind last night?"

"Guess again, boy," Yondu announces with a smirk, and when he looks to Peter he finds his expression mirrored on the child's face. The fact that he can smile at all after these last few hours lifts a weight from Yondu's shoulders he hadn't realised was there.

" _Cap'n?!"_ Kraglin exclaims in a higher pitch than usual, and Yondu can picture his wide eyes and naked confusion clear as day. His first-mate always was an open book. "The hell're ya doin' on one o' Murlainn's ships? If you'll pardon my askin'."

"It's a long story, kid, and one I ain't in the mood to tell," Yondu replies, not having the energy to be either angry or amused by his first-mate's outburst. He'll explain everything later, once he's had time to rest and gather his thoughts and figure out how to handle the aftershocks of his massacre. Destroying an entire crew won't go unnoticed, though he doubts Murlainn was beloved enough to inspire retaliation. "Let's just say, Murlainn ain't a problem anymore."

There's a pause at that, and when Kraglin's voice finally returns, it's considerably soberer than before.

"It's been that kinda day, huh?"

Yondu doesn't bother smothering his laugh at that, though there's little humour behind it and it dies rather quickly. "Yeah. It's been that kinda day."

"Is Pete alright?"

The question's asked without the slightest hesitation and Yondu's smirk softens. Kraglin sounds concerned, more so than he likely intends, and it's a reminder that Peter has more friends on the Eclector than one would think. Yondu turns to Peter, tilting his head towards the comms in a silent gesture, and the boy reads it easily before uttering a loud, "Hi Kraglin!"

"He's in one piece," Yondu elaborates, though he imagines the sound of the boy's voice will have communicated everything Kraglin needs to know. Whether Peter is truly 'alright' remains to be seen, but he's brighter than Yondu could have hoped. Especially as it's only been an hour since he was trapped alone in the dark, scared and uncertain over what lay ahead. "We're gonna head back now. Send us the coordinates and when ya see a weird silver thing approachin', do us a favour and don' blow us up."

"I won't, Cap'n," Kraglin promises, the smile in his voice clear, and Yondu cuts the line when the Eclector's current position appears onscreen. She isn't too far away – three hours at most – and Yondu enters her details before starting up the engines and feeling the weightlessness that comes with lift-off.

Without someone to manually enforce the procedure of opening the vessel's hull, Yondu settles for less dignified means. Namely telling Peter to strap in, before taking control of the ship's blasters and firing mercilessly at the wall trapping them inside. There's a deafening screech of abused metal as the blasts strike their target, and when a gaping hole finally forms, their ears are assaulted by a harsh wail as the change in pressure batters their ship's exterior.

Like all M-ships though, this one is a resilient little thing, and when Yondu guides her forwards, she does so without protest. As they breach the hull and are unleashed into the darkness of space, Yondu allows himself one look back at Murlainn's shattered home before putting on a burst of speed and leaving the whole nightmarish ordeal behind him.

Murlainn is dead. The certainty that anyone who follows in his footsteps will meet the same fate grips Yondu so fiercely it almost hurts, but he cannot deny his capabilities. The gods only know how many men died today because they tried to take Peter from him – even Yondu lost count eventually – and it hits him there and then that Peter will never be safer with anyone else. Living with the Ravagers will undeniably bring many dangers with it, but it's also his best chance at survival in the years to come.

It seems Yondu's stuck with him. Possibly for the rest of his life.

Accepting that fact is a lot easier than it should be.

The journey home is a quiet one. Even the sights are modest – every passing star or planet seeming too far away to leave an impact. At some point Peter returns to his music and curls up on the chair, drifting into an exhausted slumber within minutes. The rest of the trip is spent in peaceful silence that seems absurd after the insanity of the day's events, and when the Eclector's hull finally comes into view – silhouetted by a distant sun – it feels like Yondu hasn't seen her in years.

Once they approach the docking bay, Yondu lands as gently as possible to avoid rousing Peter. He seems to succeed; the boy shifts only a little when Yondu lifts him into his arms, and quickly settles for using his shoulder as a makeshift pillow. Kraglin greets them as they exit the stolen ship, but any amusement he gleans from seeing his captain cradling a sleeping child is silenced by a single glare on Yondu's part, and he wisely says nothing beyond a short welcome. There will be a story to tell his first-mate later – a long one at that – but only once Peter's safely in his room and Yondu can reassure his own exhausted mind that they're both safe. That he hasn't failed; that he hasn't lost another child.

As he lays Peter on his unmade bed and drapes thin sheets over him to keep him warm, the bruises on his face and wrists provide a harsh reminder of how close Yondu came to losing this one.

He wonders how long it'll take to forgive himself for that.

* * *

It takes Peter ten hours to wake up.

During that time, Yondu manages barely three hours of rest before giving up and doing his rounds of the ship, ensuring his crew haven't torn each other to shreds in his absence. Not that he should worry about that. According to Kraglin, everything has been running as efficiently as usual and the news that old Eili has given them a job has even lifted the crew's spirits. Shedding the lingering unease from the last few days may take a while, but Yondu has nothing to fear from his crew. He imagines he should let himself trust them more, though trust has never come easily for him.

His rounds are completed just as the crew's rest hours begin. The ship slowly quietens as those who aren't still feasting in the mess hall drag themselves to bed after another long day, and as has become habit, Yondu finds himself on the flight deck watching the galaxy pass by in all her glory. There's an asteroid field several clicks ahead which seems oddly beautiful from this safe distance, and a tiny uninhabited planet lies in its centre, untouched by courageous travellers. At Yondu's side, the ship's footage plays out silently, showing only empty corridors and dormitories filled with crewmates huddling together for warmth. It's perhaps inevitable that Yondu's eyes will find Peter, sleeping more soundly than one might expect, and when the boy doesn't move for several minutes, he rises with a groan and drags himself in the direction of the cargo hold. He doubts he missed any warning signs earlier, but he has enough experience to know that head wounds plus long hours without waking probably shouldn't be ignored.

At least that's the excuse he's using to check up on Peter.

The eerie calm of the ship is all too familiar now, but there's the occasional snore to assure Yondu that life still dwells within the Eclector's walls. Even as he draws closer to the near-silent hold, the hum of distant engines lingers and the vibration beneath his feet provides a homely comfort. He hadn't missed the ship's noise back on the outpost, but now he's not sure he could live without it. A peaceful existence on some distant planet likely won't suit him, even if he lives to be as ancient and wise as old Eili.

The boy's still fast asleep when Yondu reaches his room, and mercifully seems to be unbroken. Peter's soft breaths provide the only sound – even his music has ceased, though he still clutches the device to his chest – and as Yondu draws closer, he notices that the bruises and cuts have started to heal. It seems rather fast, but then he's never paid much attention to the Terran healing process. Kraglin's always been the one to assess any minor injuries Peter picks up from his chores, and they've never been significant enough to warrant reporting to either Yondu or Doc.

When he notices nothing of concern, Yondu settles himself on the small chair by Peter's bed, making no attempt to wake him. The boy's earned his rest after all.

By the time Peter does wake, only a few hours later, Yondu has resorted to amusing himself with the knife that had been so expertly stolen from him. Finding the once-terrifying captain wielding a bloodied knife can't be the most reassuring sight to wake up to, but Peter takes it in stride; forcing himself to sit up and opening his mouth, not to scream, but to unleash a wide yawn. Yondu grins at him, uncaring over whether that comes across as comforting or unnerving, and examines the knife further; its golden hilt smooth to the touch as the razor-sharp blade reflects any light in a sickening red hue. There hasn't been time to clean it since the attack in the alley, and the evidence of Peter's conquest is clear to see all these hours later.

"Recognise this?" Yondu sneers as he holds the knife out for Peter to see clearly. The boy has the grace to look sheepish, albeit only a little, and Yondu can't help but laugh when he gets a small nod in response. Any anger Yondu should feel over being robbed refuses to boil over; if anything, he's impressed that Peter's proven himself to be a better thief than most of his crew. Besides, Yondu wasn't too attached to the blade. He only owned it in the first place because he stole it himself, from a dealer who acted just a little too high and mighty during their negotiations.

Peter's eyes widen as Yondu holds the knife out to him, instinctive fear shedding quickly as the true intention is understood. A small hand wraps around the hilt to carefully accept the offered blade, and Peter examines it with a small smile before looking up at Yondu, unable to hide his uncertainty.

"Ya can keep it, boy," Yondu clarifies, trying to hide his own smile as Peter's face brightens. "I don' have much use for it. Yer gonna have to learn how to use it properly, mind, and if ya think this is an excuse to steal from me again, we're gonna have trouble."

It'd be hard to miss the glimmer of amusement that crosses Peter's eyes at those words, though it vanishes quickly. Yondu swipes a hand down his face, struggling to ignore his exhaustion catching up with him, and tries not to think of how many stolen trinkets strewn across the floor are his own. Peter stealing from his crew is fair game, to an extent. They should know better than to let their valuables be taken by a brat who's yet to see his ninth year of life.

It probably speaks to how distracted Yondu's been over the past few months that he's let himself become a target as well.

"Ya did good in the alley earlier," he says, and he doesn't miss the way Peter freezes before setting the knife to the side. His hands start fidgeting in his lap, distracted, and Yondu wonders if the boy's peaceful rest had been hiding the aftershocks of his ordeal. "But if this happens again – I ain't plannin' on lettin' it, but it might – I need ya not to fight unless yer survival depends on it, or ya know ya can win. Don't give those assholes an excuse to hurt ya any more than they were plannin' to. You sit tight and wait for one of us to come for you, ya hear?"

Peter doesn't look at him, though the idea of there being a 'next time' has his small body tensing. "I didn't know you were gonna-"

"Ya didn't know I was gonna come, I know that," Yondu interrupts; and really, when has he ever given Peter an indication that he'll come running whenever he needs him? He's spent months being actively dismissive of the boy; that Peter trusts him at all is nothing short of a miracle. "But you know now. Yer a scrappy little runt, I'll give ya that, but that tends to do more harm than good. Ya need to know when to sit tight and leave all the fightin' to me."

The words linger in silence for a long moment, until Peter gives a small nod. He doesn't bother putting on a brave front upon lifting his head – his green eyes reflecting the same disquiet they'd possessed on Murlainn's ship – but he doesn't fall apart either. He hasn't let himself appear raw and broken since that first week spent screaming for his mother; it may only have been four months but the boy's learned to adapt. To survive.

He might blend in with the Ravagers yet.

" _Will_ this happen again?" Peter asks tentatively, a small shudder gripping him as he awaits the answer.

Yondu shakes his head and offers the most comforting smile he can muster. He isn't good at comfort, never has been, but he does a good enough job that a weak smile tugs at Peter's lips. "It shouldn't. Not if I have any say in things."

"Why do you care so much?" Peter asks, in a tone that would sound innocent if it weren't so hurried.

The question's one that threatens to have Yondu laughing until his chest burns and he can't draw breath. It's a question he's going to have to ask himself before long, and he's not sure he's willing to face the answer. After so long of doing everything in his power to not care – or to care just enough to keep the boy alive – he's well aware that he's royally failed in that regard, and it takes all the restraint he has to keep his expression even.

The answer he gives is far from the whole one, but at least he manages to be honest.

"A captain's gotta look out for his crew," Yondu says with a small shrug, trying to seem effortless and likely failing. Peter doesn't so much as breathe in response to the explanation, but his eyes refuse to leave Yondu's own and he finds himself looking away before the attention can burn him.

"Speakin' of which; if yer gonna be stayin' with us, yer gonna have to learn a few things," Yondu continues, breaking the silence before it can become awkward. He's not sure whether the notion of staying will be a surprise to Peter. It's not like Yondu ever discussed his plans to dump him with the safest pair of hands he could find; if anything, the idea of Peter living with the Ravagers is one Yondu will have to adapt to more than Peter himself. That said, now he's admitted his change of heart out loud, he finds it surprisingly easy to accept. "Ya can have a day or two to rest, then I'm gonna teach ya how to shoot. That fancy knife o' yours ain't gonna do much in a gunfight."

"Second thing is, yer gonna learn how to steal properly."

That earns him a raised eyebrow and an alarmingly cocksure smirk that has Peter resembling the nightmare of a teenager he's likely to become. As if hammering the point home, the boy looks around at the already impressive pile of stolen goods he's acquired over his stay.

"Ha ha, ya jumped up little shit," Yondu mocks, though apparently not enough to dissuade a small giggle from Peter. A lot seems to have changed over the past week; once upon a time, insulting the boy would have had him frozen in silent fear. Yondu will have to be careful if he wants to uphold any semblance of that reputation. "Yer a talented little thief, I know that. Ya need to hone that skill though. Learn to make yerself useful and steal stuff that's actually valuable if yer gonna earn yer keep."

That last point isn't entirely necessary, but Yondu knows the crew will warm to Peter more easily if he's useful on a job or two. His proficiency for squeezing into spaces grown men can't could earn them thousands of units, and if he manages to bag even one precious jewel or antique then he'll quickly stop being seen as the ship's nuisance – or worse, mascot – and start being seen as a valuable asset. It helps that Peter's built a hobby around thievery, even if it was just to keep himself entertained around the ship, and the notion of using his skills for the Ravagers' benefit elicits a willing nod.

With that, Yondu rises to his feet. There's little left to concern himself with for the moment; teaching Peter how to handle a gun can wait until he's recovered from the day's scare, and Morag is still several days away. Rest is a pleasant notion, but Yondu doubts he'll be able to switch off considering the disaster that was his first attempt, and it's not like sleep has ever come easily for him. He can still attempt an hour or two before the ship comes to life though, and there'll be plenty of opportunities to catch up on sleep before they reach their destination.

The reminder of the job that awaits them has Yondu halting just as he's about to leave, and he turns on his heels to find Peter already pulling the sheets back over himself and smothering a yawn. Ten hours of rest apparently wasn't enough.

"What would ya say to a trip to Morag?" Yondu asks. The likelihood of Peter wanting to go anywhere else is one he would have considered low, if the boy wasn't in the habit of surprising him. Sure enough, something lights up in his face as he quietly considers the offer. The possibility of danger must not be enough to vanquish the sense of adventure that had gripped him upon his first steps on a new planet. "You'll probably like it. The whole planet's a wasteland but there's a ton of ancient ruins, and it's a treasure trove if ya know where to look."

Peter doesn't waste much time thinking about the offer, and it's impossible to miss the smile that tugs at his lips as he asks, "Is it safe?"

The echo of those words has Yondu laughing out loud. It's become clear in the last few days that his answer to that should always be taken with a grain of salt. "Probably not. But then, it wouldn' be fun if it was."

That's likely not the best life advice to impart on an impressionable eight-year-old, but no matter what Yondu does, safety is always going to be a relative term where Peter's concerned. Even if he spends every waking moment in this small room, there's still the possibility of the engines going into meltdown or a stray gunshot breaching the hull if a crewmate gets aggressive. Yondu has every intention of letting Peter grow into the adult his siblings never got the chance to be, but there's a difference between keeping him safe and wrapping him in cotton wool. If the boy's proven anything of late, it's that he's a far cry from some delicate flower and that he can adapt should the need arise. It may even end up being in his best interests to teach him how to handle a blaster or explore desolate planets in search of riches.

"So," Yondu asks, once his answer has had time to sink in. "You up for it?"

Peter only needs a few more seconds to think on it before grinning and letting out an " _Aye, Cap'n_ ," that's so blatantly an impression of Kraglin that Yondu's laugh escapes him without warning. The boy doesn't join in this time, though he does look rather pleased with himself, and Yondu leaves him to his satisfaction with merely an eye-roll and a curt, "Get some rest."

It occurs to him, as he wanders towards the promise of quiet solitude resting within his own quarters, that raising a young Ravager over the coming years promises to be the bane of his existence.

Gods help him, but he thinks he's looking forward to the challenge.


	10. Epilogue

" _Do you really think Ego won't find him?"_

It had only taken a few months for Yondu to truly believe that. The disappearance of Ego from public consciousness happened almost overnight; one minute rogue traders were falling over themselves to deal with him, the next he was little more than an urban legend. A dark fairy-tale designed to scare the children – be careful or the lonely god will take you as his own.

Even the endless calls from old 'friends' ceased in the wake of Murlainn's death. Those planning on stealing Peter away were fuelled by greed, not bravery, and very few were willing to risk Yondu's wrath once news of the massacre spread. Whether Ego kept looking for his son or simply moved on when it became clear no-one would bring him, Yondu cannot say. He was rarely willing to ponder the answer to that. It was doubtful that Ego had vanished entirely – he was likely searching for his children on other systems or busy fathering yet more bastards elsewhere – but the less Yondu heard about him, the more their past dealings felt like a distant nightmare.

Before he knew it, Peter was simply another member of the crew; as much a Ravager as Tullk or Kraglin. His transition from isolated child to active participant in their crimes was a gradual one, but by the age of ten he was a natural. His ability to slip into tiny spaces and escape from targets unseen earned them a lot of money over the years, and even those who once hated Peter eventually warmed to their youngest thief. Yondu tried not to betray his own pride in the boy too often. Running a crew was like walking a tightrope; the slightest hint of favouritism could spark a mutiny before he knew it. Other captains had been overthrown for less.

There would be times, however, where he'd buy a doll solely because he knew it would make Peter laugh, or hum one of those blasted songs the boy always listened to without thinking, and it was as glaring a hint as any that he was starting to care a little too much. True, he wouldn't hesitate to set the boy more chores whenever he stepped out of line and the threat of being eaten did come up again once or twice. A day.

However, as months stretched to years and Peter started to grow before Yondu's eyes, he knew that denying his pride in the boy would only make him a fool.

Eili had been the one to point out that he was going soft, long before he realised it himself. She always gave the impression that she saw right through Yondu; ever since their return from Morag had Peter presenting gems he'd allegedly found himself (He hadn't. Yondu and Kraglin had been the ones scanning the debris for the stones' specific properties while Peter explored the ruins, dancing and miming to his songs. Eili didn't need to know that though). The boy's appreciation for the ex-pirate had them returning to her shack more often than usual, more so for the stories she'd tell rather than the rewards each visit brought. More profitable ventures lay elsewhere, but Yondu hardly minded doing business with Eili. He liked her well enough and it was nice to have a client you trusted not to stab you in the back at the end of the day.

Eili soon came to love Peter as though he were her own, to the extent that Yondu imagined she'd be a good replacement if he were to die. In the twelve years before her death, she was always enchanted by how much Peter had grown between visits, and soaked up every word as he described finding some artefact for her. By the fifth visit, Yondu had learned to stand back and watch their interactions unfold with a slight smile, until Eili acknowledged him with a wicked smirk and returned to business.

Not that she could judge him for being obvious. She always upped her reward whenever Peter was involved on the promise that he got a fair share, and sometimes she'd even let him take trinkets off her shelf for free. Yondu had never seen her so soft. Even when he'd first met her, her warmest interactions with him were always teasing; any smile she offered resembling a sneer more often than not. She'd certainly never given him special treatment where business was concerned, let alone a discount for her wares.

Apparently she'd seen a change in him too.

He still thinks of the time Eili took him aside without warning, many years ago. As a thirteen-year-old Peter wandered between the cabinets, engrossed in his Walkman, Eili had grabbed Yondu's arm and whispered, " _You love him too, don't you_?" with a sly smile.

Yondu hadn't known how to answer that, and had perhaps been a little too flippant when he responded with, " _He's just part of the crew, is all_."

He hadn't convinced her, of course. Even worse - he hadn't convinced himself. Yondu had only ever wanted to protect Peter without growing attached to him, but that ship had sailed years ago. He accepted that and felt lighter for it.

Loving him, though. That was something different.

Eili's wink, along with her utterance of " _You keep tellin' yourself that_ ," continues to haunt him on some nights. She hadn't given him time to think before rushing off to entertain Peter with more tales of her adventures, leaving Yondu to dwell on her words alone.

Years later, he's still dwelling on them.

Yondu cannot lie; he's spent twenty-six years hating the boy as often as loving him. For every joyful exploration of a new planet or swell of pride when Peter learned to shoot or fly his first ship, there'd be times where Peter tested him by swanning off on his own for weeks only to return with a damn smirk on his face. The more he grew into a man, the more the latter occurred. Raising a child on a Ravager ship was always going to result in a rebellious thief desperate for freedom, but there are times where Yondu wishes he had left Peter with Eili or Stakar or literally anyone else, instead of lumbering himself with the responsibility.

Stealing the orb ends up being the boiling point for them both. The point where Yondu wonders if he'll actually have to harm Peter to teach him a lesson; where the arrow that's spent years protecting the boy ends up a hairs-breadth from his throat, while Yondu wonders if part of him wants it to finish the job.

That thought lasts only a second, but it's a second too long.

The relief that floods through him when Peter uses his words to save himself is one Yondu hides behind a smirk and forced laughter. Only later, once Ronan is dead and Xandar is saved, does he let himself wonder if he would ever be able to kill Peter. It doesn't take long to come to the conclusion that no, he couldn't. His heart would never allow the arrow to harm his boy, no matter how loudly his head screamed at it.

He cannot hate Peter entirely. That flicker of love Eili spotted all those years ago has infected him to the point of no return. It's an inconvenience to say the least, but it's one that makes the deep hole within him seem slightly smaller and stops his black heart from shrivelling entirely.

Never is this more evident than when he stares down at the orb, ignoring his men drinking to their victory around him, and clicks it open to find only a doll Peter had loved.

He should be furious, yet all he can do is grin. Many years ago he'd told Peter he would need to steal more than mere trinkets, and now the boy's succeeded in denying him four-billion units.

Yondu couldn't be prouder.

* * *

It's been years since he's let himself think about Ego.

The children never stop haunting his dreams, especially as Peter grows. Occasionally he'll see a hint of Alaria in the boy's smile; the little girl had always been happy, even when brought face-to-face with some of the uglier Ravagers. Other times, when Peter's in a foul mood, there'll be a little of Lyxander or Seth in his burning green eyes; their own defiance having been nurtured by the unforgiving streets of home. Throughout the years, Peter reminds Yondu of every single child his greed helped murder, and each time causes guilt to lance through his chest.

Ego, though, he learns to forget. Everything from the man's appearance to his manner fades slowly until only his apt name remains, as though the god truly poses no threat anymore. It's been years since Yondu heard anyone else mention him, and when Kraglin casually brings him up as they fly away from Xandar, leaving Peter to his newfound family, Yondu dismisses all thought of Ego with alarming ease.

He'd forgotten just how dangerous Peter's father was; how desperate he'd once been to take back his son. He'd chosen to believe that Ego was concerning himself elsewhere and that he'd forgotten the child Yondu had stolen away in order to protect.

What a fool he'd been.

* * *

The red planet below might have seemed beautiful in the right circumstances. Certainly, it had always enchanted the children upon their final approach; their eyes widening at the crimson leaves and shimmering pools while Yondu spoke of the golden palace that awaited them on the surface, with sprawling grounds they could get lost in forever. That was before he'd realised just how lifeless the planet was. Before he'd realised the beauty was a lure to draw the children in, and that he'd let himself be fooled as well.

He wonders if Peter was lost in wonder too, when he saw his father's planet for the first time. If the excitement of discovering a new world had overtaken him like so many times before, as he unknowingly walked into a trap he may never escape from.

The thought of Ego finally having Peter in his clutches has ice slipping into Yondu's veins, and yet he finds he can't look away from the planet below.

It's been a while since Yondu last thought of Murlainn – the old friend he willingly murdered for Peter's sake – but now the man's dying words are the only thing he can hear.

" _How long do you think he'll last under your protection?"_

It turns out the answer was twenty-six years.

Yondu's managed to keep Peter alive for twenty-six blessed years, and that's a miracle in itself. There's been near-misses, certainly – nobody ever claimed the life of a Ravager was a safe one – but under Yondu's guardianship, Peter has matured into a healthy young man capable of saving the galaxy. That should be a source of pride, but burning shame grips Yondu's chest as he stares down at Ego.

Twenty-six years may have been a small lifetime for him, but it's a mere blink of an eye for a celestial. Nothing will have changed for Ego. His intentions will have remained the same after all these years - the children he acquires walking corpses from the moment they set foot on his planet – and Peter has already been there too long. The rat is trying to establish contact with him and his friends with little success, and as much as Yondu tries to drown out the noise, its implications have a premature grief settling in his mind.

Of course Ego would return to destroy all his hard work just as everything else has fallen apart. In a matter of hours, Yondu has lost his crew and his home. He might even have lost his son (because damnit if Peter hadn't become just that over the years). It's like a trickster with a very cruel sense of humour has decided to play games with him, and he's not sure what he'll do if he loses Peter on top of everything else. Even in the boy's recent absence, Yondu would often bring up the tracking data on the Milano to ensure she was still out among the stars, and he'd bought a new music-player from a crooked dealer just in case he happened to see Peter again. Knowing he was alive and saving entire worlds with his new family had been enough for Yondu, even as his own crew fell deeper into dissatisfaction around him.

Losing Peter for good will likely have the gaping emptiness within his soul consuming him until there's nothing left but rage. After that, there's no telling what he'll do.

Gamora's voice coming through the comms ignites a hope Yondu thought no longer existed, and he instantly gets to work as though someone has lit a fire within him. Rocket is equally motivated by this small indicator that life still dwells on the planet, and it's a bitter reminder that he cares for Peter as much as Yondu does, despite being equally terrible at showing it. Finding his mirror image in the form of a weird rat is not something Yondu expected to happen, but it's been a very strange day and he doubts things will ever be normal again after this.

At least, not until they have Peter back safe and Yondu's torn Ego to shreds with his bare hands.

The pair of them - plus the little twig clinging to Rocket's shoulder - settle at the controls of the mining ship in record time and set off towards Ego without a second thought. There's no need to discuss what they're doing in depth, which is good. Yondu's bared his soul to his new companions enough today, and his uncertainty over whether Peter still lives threatens to bare a lot more if he so much as opens his mouth. Besides, there's nothing worth saying. They all know that what they're embarking on would be a suicide mission even with years of planning, but the knowledge of that is never going to stop them.

After all, Yondu's always been willing to resort to extremes if it means keeping his boy safe.

* * *

 **A/N - Well, this story ended up being much longer than I imagined when I first sat down to write it...**

 **Thank you so much for reading this! It was a lot of fun to write and I really hope you enjoyed it :)**


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